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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198460">Let Forever Be</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ncj700/pseuds/Ncj700'>Ncj700</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Somebody AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baebae is a good pupper, But all mountains start somewhere, CORAN THE GORGEOUS MAN - Freeform, Everyone who's conscious is generally not doing well, F/F, F/M, Injury Recovery, Katie's got this, Keith no, M/M, Matt is not having a good time, Mozak is not popular, Nor Romelle, Or Keith, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Recovery, Recoveries are baby steps, We know what youre doing but STOP, but it's still progress!, recovery from torture, why is Keith always a goddamned martyr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:15:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ncj700/pseuds/Ncj700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Voltedge Bombing, the world changed. Katie Holt’s first perception of the Yendailian desert sunset left her tongue parched dry with the taste of red sands, burning of air too long without rain, the clear scent of cologne, and for what felt like the first time, the gusts of freedom whipping through her hair. For Keith, the resolutions of everything he’d lived his life for, was cathartic assurance and the next step into a future he didn't have to prove.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith &amp; Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt, Matt Holt/Romelle, Sam Holt/Colleen Holt, Takashi Shirogane/Curtis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Somebody AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>129</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. From Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuceCiel/gifts">LuceCiel</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please be aware that this story is a follow on from the three prequels in this series. It can be read of its own, if you want, but most understanding will come from the previous stories which will be heavily referenced.</p><p>As it will reflect those stories, this one will also contain mentions and elements of graphic content that some people may not be comfortable with, as well as recovery from PTSD, and the elements of the condition that entails.</p><p>TL;DRs will be provided if necessary. I don't think there will be too many in this story, but I just wanted to make sure people were aware of the contents before proceeding, and if going forward there are any times I don't provide them where people think warnings may be needed, please feel free to let me know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Keith took the moments as Zethrid rushed towards them to catch his breath, looking up at the billowing smoke and embers from incinerating flames that dyed the sky ember red. Closing his eyes, he took the small moment of peace, listening to the close of nearby sirens as the woman curled into his shoulder crumbled in exhaustion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie was shaking from the release of the terror she’d been enduring, and he wished he could do more than mumble ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re safe now</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll be okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ to her. He didn’t know if it was much comfort, but he was on the verge of collapsing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith! Keith!” Zethrid was screaming as she scrambled through the heather and dried grass towards them. “Keith are you okay? Is Katie alive? What happened?” Kosmo barked in greeting as she skidded down beside them. “Fate’s mercies, Keith? Keith? Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you…” he groaned, “...m’fine, Sendak was mad but he’s charcoal now…” he mumbled. “...s there an ambulance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the police sirens was starting to make his head hurt, but he had to stay awake. As long as Katie was clinging onto him, he was still working. He couldn’t just leave her to someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already called,” Zethrid said. “The preliminary ambulance is coming from Muldok; they’ll be here soon, and Marchanda is sending an air ambulance to take her through,” she said as Katie wheezed and coughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kosmo whined, shuffling closer and putting his head in her lap; at first, Keith was prepared to shoo him away, but watching Katie’s shaky fingers reach out and ruffle his ears changed his mind. He could feel some more of the tension dropping away from her as she mumbled to his dog, and Kosmo gave her some reassuring snuffles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” he sighed, scratching Kosmo’s ear, watching Katie as she smiled at the dog. “Very good boy, Kosmo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie seemed a little unfocused, and she was still clinging to him like her life depended on it as she looked between Kosmo, the billowing sparks from the burning building streaming past the stars overhead, and spared a few glances at him. Her breathing was raspy and dry enough to hear, and as her concentration dazed away, he panicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie,” he called out to her. “Stay awake! Please, please, don’t fall asleep!” he mumbled, pleaded. She hadn’t made it this far to give up and suffocate from the smoke. “Take deep breaths for me. Don’t try to talk, just take deep breaths, nice and slow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was hazy for a moment, but she tried. Inhaling for longer and more slowly. She wasn’t fully struggling, but probably had smoke inhalation. That was way beyond his limited knowledge of emergency first aid, so Keith kept talking, anything to keep her awake as Zethrid relayed information to the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…melle, can you tell them to send a double pod from Muldok? I think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t really sure what to talk about, so he told her about Kosmo, since she was focusing on him. What his favourite foods were (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tagine stew when I’m not looking, otherwise he gets steak mince and dog biscuit</span>
  </em>
  <span>’), how old he was (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>two years, nine months and three days</span>
  </em>
  <span>’), his favourite hobbies (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>he likes to sit outside and howl at the cactus wrens back home, or at the Beast King when he sees him on KBPs opening credits,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’), how he liked to terrorise the various departments at work (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone thinks he’s the office cryptid because he breaks out of the dog pens and wanders around hiding behind the doors and cabinets until he finds my desk</span>
  </em>
  <span>’), and his favourite walks (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>he hates street walks, so unless we’re back home we have to go out on the bike to get to the nearest forest walk</span>
  </em>
  <span>’).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he talked, he kept an eye out for the flashing lights of the ambulance, and sure enough, about a half hour later, he saw one heading towards them, a couple of paramedics jumping out and rushing over while it looked for flat land to park on as Zethrid waved them over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie cringed at the noise, and Keith tried to reassure her, telling her what was happening (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just the ambulance arriving. The paramedics are going to check up on you until the one from Marchanda gets her to take you home. There’s just parking problems because of all the hills around here,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’), but she was still nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cringed away from the paramedics as they approached at first. She was still terrified, shrinking away from everyone who came close. Kosmo even started growling at them at first until Keith promised her they weren’t going to hurt her, and she reluctantly allowed them to get a breathing mask on her, b</span>
  <span>ut only after Keith put one on too (something the paramedic seemed happy with), showing her that there weren’t any sedatives in it—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>See? Just oxygen. You’ll be okay, I promise. You’re safe now. The paramedics just want to help.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether it was the first words he’d spoken to her being a comforting repetition, or the visual assurance he wasn’t sure, but after that, she let them check her over a little easier. </span>
  <span>Keith could hardly blame her for being overwhelmed; the noise was giving him a singing headache, probably thanks to the explosion, and he hadn’t been through half of what Katie had been dealing with. He could handle a few bruises and a headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The paramedics covered them both in a neutralising powder that smelled a little fresh, like mint or bicarbonate of soda, to counteract the Komar fluid they were both now covered with, and the at least got a smile and half chuckle from her when the paramedics, after seeing Kosmo trying to lick her fingers, doused him in some too (something Kosmo seems pleased with judging by his excited circles), making sure to shuck some of the cloudy powder on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked like a ghost dog by the end of it, and Katie’s small laugh made him sit back and start yowling for a moment; Keith had no idea if Kosmo was just responding to the situation and sensing that Katie needed a distraction, or if he just liked her, but if it gave Katie a distraction, he wasn’t going to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got the impression the clean oxygen was helping, because while she was still exhausted, and clearly still scared from her continued grip on his jacket and refusal to let the paramedics move her to their stretcher, she was looking around more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, they could see the air ambulance lights blinking through the smoke, and after some more coaxing, they persuaded her to let herself be taken to the ambulance to wait. Once there, she even let the paramedics cut her Komar soaked clothes off in favour of a heated hydration and decontamination blanket. Keith had carefully pulled himself away to sit on the back step of the van, but only with the promise to return and Kosmo’s self-insertion at the end of the ambulance bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were done, he staggered back to his feet, taking the seat one of the paramedics pleaded with him to use—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to check your leg! Please DCI Hawkins, you shouldn’t even be walking!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—with little more convincing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t really noticed after he and Katie had stumbled out through the wall and collapsed on the bed of heather moorland beyond it, but his leg really did hurt a bit after carrying her to the ambulance with the paramedics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith let Merla do whatever she deemed necessary, and kept talking to Katie, letting her know what was happening when the air ambulance landed some distance away, and what the noise was when the front of the ambulance detached. He explained that the drivers were just swapping the engine pods so that they could take her straight to the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the air ambulance teams took over, it was long after they were in the air that she fell asleep, exhaustion finally taking over; her grip on his hand remained firm even in sleep as the medics took the calm to give her painkillers and check her bloods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merla checked him up too, giving him painkillers, checking his own throat, and making him take his jacket and shirt off to use some neutralising gel where the Komar on Katie’s clothes had started to eat through his own while she rested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His leg was wrapped up in something, but his priority was Katie, and he refused anything that meant he had to move, or let go of her. After everything she’d been through, Keith refused to be the one who rejected the last bit of trust she had left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. He wasn’t going to let go without whatever reassurance his presence gave her, or abandon her until she was in Marchanda, reunited with her family and where the doctors there could give her all the treatment she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flight was smooth and fast; he felt like it was faster than the journey to Naczella had been, but a look at his phone and the time told him they were travelling around the same speed as before. Occasionally he looked out at the scenery passing beneath them, but mostly he focused on Katie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until his phone buzzed, and he managed to switch on his earpiece and answer Kolivan’s call before Merla could tell him not to. It was just an information dump—Keith was dimly aware of Kolivan telling him that Lance and Sendak had both been taken to hospital in Muldok. Lance had a slight concussion but was otherwise fine, and Sendak would, unfortunately, probably survive his burns to go to trial—but it was hazy, and he lost enough signal to hear it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to focus on anything, really. Merla put some dressings on his spinning head and bleeding nose. Only Katie waking up distracted him. Kosmo perked up too, sensing her distress. He was lying length ways against her, and her fingers tightened in his fur as well as Keith's hand, her eyes darting around the pod again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” he told her as she started, hands going to yank at the safety belt keeping the blankets around her. “It’s okay, I promise,” he reassured her. “They’re just so it doesn’t fall off. Merla made me wear one too, see?” Keith pulled at sleeves of the smaller version of the blanket he’d also been wrapped up in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was made from a biodegradable plastic that released fast-acting painkillers and cleansing, neutralising fluids to contaminated skin. Komar fluid had become so prevalent in arson crimes that they were standard practice now. They weren’t perfect by any means, but they stopped the corrosive fluid until a full Decontamination unit could be found, which would be Katie’s first heading at the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed to put her at ease, and she slumped back against the bed, which was slightly raised, scratching Kosmo’s ears again. Keith wasn’t sure that she was fully awake. She was probably just so used to being in uncertain circumstances that something had registered in her survival instinct and she had woken herself. It could have been anything. Maybe a turn in the pod’s route as they flew back to Marchanda, or a shift of the blanket against her skin, a twinge of pain somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter, she was still scared, and until she didn’t need someone to reassure her, to tell her what was happening, that she wasn’t in danger anymore, she was his priority. By some miracle, she recognised him, and his assurances that she was safe resonated with her, so he listens to her mumbled speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… he said… he…they wouldn’t find me,” she rambled, half asleep, but her eyes turned in his direction as she fought against sleep. “…no idiots and their dogs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t really know what she was talking about, but she could only assume that the ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Katie was referring to was Sendak. “Well, Kosmo definitely proved him wrong,” he said gently, reaching over and scratching his dog’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie watched him, her fingers copying the absent scratches that were making Kosmo’s tail wag like an old-fashioned helicopter blade. Then her left hand reached out. “No,” she mumbled, clutching the fingers of his right hand. “He said they wouldn’t…” she insisted, her voice sounding as though the warmth of the blankets and Kosmo’s body heat were helping her find rest again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith squeezed her hand. “It’s okay,” he repeated again, a little tired himself, but unwilling to show it in case Katie thought it was directed at her. “Whatever he told you, he was wrong, you’re safe now,” he said, repeating the three words again, helping her relax a little more with them. “Look,” he pointed through the window towards the bright glow of Marchanda’s city lights. Among them was one a little dim, but recognisable. “Teludav Tower,” he pointed out. “You’re nearly home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie stared out of the window, her fingers weak, but tight as she could close them around his hand. “DaiRugger…” she mumbled.</span>
</p><p><span>“Yeah, just like you told us,” he said. His stomach was churning with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said. He knew she probably had no clue what he was talking about, but he still couldn’t forgive himself for walking right past the van she’d been inside when Voltedge had been lit up in flames, or for not being able to get the rescue teams to her after she had </span><em><span>told</span></em> <em><span>them</span></em><span> where to go. “I’m sorry, I—” Keith paused, correcting himself. “—We couldn’t reach you sooner, but it’s just a little longer. Your family is waiting at the hospital. You’ll see them soon Katie.”</span></p><p>
  <span>The words were no lie; Keith could already see the top of the hospital, the landing zone where the pod was headed, and Katie seemed to be half watching the window too. She was still mumbling, and her fingers remained wrapped around his, clenching as the judders from the pod shifting into the landing couplings jostled them, and the pneumatics of the ramp lowering out to hospital roof startled her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was a gust of wind as the pod door opened, and he got to his feet walking alongside the paramedics with a little difficulty as they pushed the bed out the doctors waiting to take over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then someone put their hands on his shoulders, and he was pulled away; Kosmo barked, and he saw him jump off the bed rushing across the concrete towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” he mumbled as her fingers slipped limp out of his hand, down onto the side of the bed. As it was guided away, it rolled, baring the inner skin of her left wrist. It struck him as unusual that it was blank; didn't Katie have left-handed words? It didn’t matter. She was stirring, and she sounded unsettled again. “Wait, she’s scared…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can someone help over here?” someone called out. “We’re going to need another bed!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith!” A familiar voice called out, screamed actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith blinked as Romelle’s blonde ponytails hurtled towards him as fast as her belly would let her, which was remarkably faster than he would have expected. Kolivan was rushing along after her, and she tried to help whoever had hold of him as he staggered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie,” he mumbled again. “...’s scared…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith it’s okay, Matt and Sam and Colleen are all here,” Romelle said, trying to keep hold of him and sinking a little as he clung to her. She sounded scared. Was she crying? Her face looked wet. “Keith, come on, sit down okay?” she said, rubbing one hand on his right arm,  until Kolivan took his weight from her. “It’s okay now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…’s scared…” he mumbled, trying not to stumble as Kolivan’s thicker arms steadied him taking his weight from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll be fine Keith, you did good. Why don’t you think about the report you’re going to give me later?” Kolivan said gently but firmly, making him sit down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith clung onto Romelle's hand where she was gripping his. She looked like she'd seen something horrible, and was definitely crying and mumbling something––‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>it can’t be…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he look that bad? He was beginning to feel it; maybe he did need a doctor, but he had to make sure…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie’s fine, she’s alive, you did it, you got her out,” Kolivan told him. “You did it Keith. She’s with her family again, she’ll be okay,” he said. “You can stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith all but collapsed onto the floor, only Kolivan’s grip keeping him upright in any form as the words seemed to sap whatever it was that had been keeping him moving from his bones. That was all he needed to hear to let himself stop; Katie was okay. She’d be alright. She’d see her brother, her parents, Romelle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…t’s good…” he mumbled. “...re is she? She’s scared…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, it’s okay Keith, she’ll be okay,” Romelle said, trying to reassure him. “The doctors are looking after her; she’s going to decontamination and cryosurgery in the ICU. You need to go, too. Just try not to move, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could do that. He felt better sitting down too. His leg was sore just from those few short steps and his head was starting to hurt again. His jaw ached, and his side felt uncomfortable too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't remember when he’d last slept. Not properly. He’d napped at the station a lot before leaving. Was that when? He really couldn't remember. Could he have a nap now? He really wanted to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Hawkins, can you open your eyes for me?” someone asked. Keith tried but he was tired. “Mr Hawkins, can you hear me? Mr Hawkins? Mr Hawk…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith let the sounds fade away, closing his eyes and slumping, letting his exhaustion catch up with him. Kolivan was always complaining he worked too much, and he really, really wanted to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, with his main concern abated––Katie was safe now, she’d be taken care of and was back with her family––he did just that; oblivious to the panicked calls around him, Keith let his eyes close, and dropped away from the chaotic hours that had driven him till then in exchange for dreamless, blissful sleep.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Katie stared at the sky, looking up at the billowing smoke and embers from incinerating flames that dyed the sky ember red. At first, she didn't hear the close of the nearby sirens. Everything had happened too fast. The only thing she wanted to focus on were the warm arms around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up at the night sky, her senses were assaulted but the cacophony of activity around her far-off sounds and flashes of lights echoed urgency and danger all around her; police were everywhere, large jets of water and Zaiforge neutralising foam rose over the stone walls from the fire engines, but she still felt numb to it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want to think about anything further than the tiny safe spot she’d found, collapsed at the side of the road against a complete stranger, someone she had known for years already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re safe now,” he repeated, reassuring her, reinforcing her belief that she wasn’t hallucinating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…ith! Keith!” Someone screamed, their footsteps close and crunching through the heather towards them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith. That was his name, wasn’t it? It sounded familiar. Had someone told her the name before? Or was it just from Sendak’s videos that she remembered it? She felt like she’d heard it before. Maybe she was just imagining it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…ate’s mercies, Keith? Keith? Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you…” he groaned. “...m’fine, Sendak was mad but he’s charcoal now…” he mumbled. “...s there an ambulance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already called. The preliminary ambulance is coming from Muldok; they’ll be here soon, and Marchanda is sending an air ambulance to take her through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie tried to listen—she wanted to say something, to talk to him—but the taste of smoke and soot was layered thick on her tongue and she coughed, trying to clear her throat, only to wheeze and gasp in search of more air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was it still so hard to breathe?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard the dog whine, and smiled at him as his head shuffled into her lap, trying to scratch his ears. Sendak had been wrong. There had been a dog, and their idiot. Though she didn’t think Keith counted as an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The canine’s fur was warm under her fingers, soft and fluffy, and she felt the detective’s arm shift. Reaching out to join her in scratching his ears. “Good boy,” he said. “Very good boy. Kosmo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie tried to ask him if the dog was a boy or a girl, but she rasped again, her throat dry. Black dots spinning in front of her eyes as she gasped for air again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t she breathe? She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Everything was dark and spinning again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She couldn’t breathe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie, stay awake! Please, please, don’t fall asleep!” Keith said, helping her sit up a little more, his hands a comforting touch on her shoulder. “Take deep breaths for me,” he said, and she tried to do as he told her. “Don’t try to talk, just take deep breaths, nice and slow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried. It was hard to inhale as much as she wanted, but after a moment the dizziness went away, and the black spots disappeared. She could breathe again as long as she was slow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the other policewoman talked to someone on an earpiece—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>…melle, can you tell them to send a double pod from Muldok? I think…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—Keith talked to her, giving her something to listen to and focus on as she took the slow breaths he’d asked her to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether because he had realised what she had tried to ask or just as a random topic, he told her about the dog as she scratched his ears and fur, enjoying the first warm, comforting, friendly presences she’d felt for she didn’t know how long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name is Kosmo,” he said. “He’s two years, nine months and three days old,” Keith told her, and she couldn’t help but find it funny that he was so specific. It was nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…His favourite food is tagine stew, when I’m not looking, but otherwise he gets steak mince and dog biscuit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steak mince?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He really loved his dog. That was good. She wouldn’t have liked her soulmate much if they didn’t like animals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…he likes to sit outside and howl at the cactus wrens back home, or at the Beast King when he sees him on KBP’s opening credits…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie had never seen a cactus wren, but the idea of the fluffy giant of a dog sitting howling along in chorus to singing birds on a saguaro, or the video game opening was nice. Did that mean Keith played KBP too? She wanted to ask him but she felt dizzy every time she tried to do anything but take a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…everyone thinks he’s the office cryptid because he breaks out of the dog pens and wanders around hiding behind the doors and cabinets until he finds my desk…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of his voice was nice too. It was calm, and it wasn’t loud like everything else. Somehow, the sound drowned out all the other echoes of chaos in the air. Sitting there, breathing, listening to Keith telling her about his dog was the most peaceful thing she had heard in weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…he hates street walks, so unless we’re back home we have to go out on the bike to get to the nearest forest walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he talked, Keith kept his arm on her shoulders, unfazed as she clung to him, trying to digest everything that had happened, that was still happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered what time it was, how long it took him to carry her to the roadside, and watched the crackling embers and smoke billowing up above their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every distraction from the aches and rasp in her breath was inevitably overtaken by the only one that she could focus on; the man holding her up, glaring people away when they came close enough to make her start and shudder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fate hadn’t abandoned her after all. It had not been kind, but it hadn’t abandoned her either. At the very last moment, her words really had saved her. She’d met her soulmate. She could feel his arm, smell the sweat on his neck, hear his rough breathing, and the mumble in his voice when the noise of an approaching vehicle with flashing green lights spooked her as it approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just the ambulance arriving. The paramedics are going to check up on you until the one from Marchanda gets her to take you home,” he said, the tone of his voice still calm and reassuring. “There’s just parking problems because of all the hills around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d saved her life, and that was all she knew about him. It was all she needed to know really. Even if she forgot everything else, she had to remember him. He was right there, and he was real, and she was alive. Sendak had been wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t help cringing away from the paramedics when they arrived, despite Keith’s first assurances. When the woman with ginger-red hair rushed over to them Kosmo even growled a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to block it all out, she curled her head into Keith’s shoulder—could she call him that? She wasn’t sure if she could or not yet––scared to move, scared to talk to anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if Sendak had made it out? What if these people were more cultists? She’d trusted Bogh, someone she’d known for over two years, and he’d been the worst character judgement she’d ever made. These people were strangers; could she really trust them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know, and not knowing had become a very real fear for her. She knew that logically, she was okay, that they wouldn’t hurt her, but she was uncertain, and leered away from the breathing mask they were trying to give her until Keith had one on too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” He said after the woman had pulled the elastic around the back of his head. “Just oxygen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were paramedics. They just wanted to help. Katie tried to keep that in her mind, letting tempt the mask on her. It just smelled a little like plastic, but the inhalation and clean taste was nice, and after a few moments she could breathe a little easier already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be okay, I promise. You’re safe now,” Keith assured her again. “The paramedics just want to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie finally nodded. She didn't let go of him though. She couldn't. He was the only stranger she could bring herself to trust, the only one she had any reassurances of, because she’d seen them on her own wrist for the past five years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Katie followed her gut, like she had been for the past weeks, and clung onto him, refusing to let go as the paramedics covered them in a dusty powder that made her face stop stinging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was safe now. As long as Keith was nearby, she was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kosmo licked her fingers, and she managed a laugh as he jumped around after the paramedic had doused him in the same white powder. The dog cocked his head at her, then sat back on his haunches and started singing very terribly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You’re safe now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound felt like the words of his owner that were still bouncing around her mind, replaying the sound of them being spoken, the sound of Keith’s voice as he’d mumbled the words out to her as simple reassurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the smoke and embers clouding the stars, she could see another set of thinking green lights overhead, and Keith and the paramedic, who she was slowly becoming less reluctant with, convinced her to let them take her to the ambulance to wait for the airlift back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The back of the pod was exactly how most pods looked, though there was space for two beds, one of which was covered with a thick, squishy, warm blanket. Keith and the Paramedic, Merla, carried her to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt warm, but damp too. But not unpleasant, and she felt like she ought to know what it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie, can you still hear me?” Merla asked, her voice gentle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie nodded. She was trying to trust her, to not think she was being carted off again. She knew the pink uniform from the news, from TV programmes. They weren’t trying to trick her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to try and clean some of the burns, where the Komar fluid has been irritating it,” the woman explained; Katie stiffened. “I know you’re scared, but I bet your skin is itching really badly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was right. It hurt and itched and just felt hot. It was horrible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurts…” she mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know sweetheart, but I can help if you’ll let me put this blanket around you,” she said. “I’ll need to take your clothes off, so DCI Hawkins needs to go outside, but he can come right back, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. She didn’t like the sound of that. Katie’s fingers tightened her grip on the man sitting beside her, shaking her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise, he can come straight back,” Merla tried again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie shook her head again. She’d rather just let her skin itch than be left alone again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just go outside the door,” Keith said. “And Kosmo will stay with you. He won’t let anyone hurt you, Katie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie wondered why they’re even letting the dog sit in the ambulance at all, but after a moment, in which the dog jumped up on to the seat opposite her bed following Keith’s command, tongue lolling at one side of his mouth, she agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith went outside, and the door of the pod closed behind him, but Kosmo remained as Merla helped her out of her clothes, and wrapped the blanket around her, helping her arms through the sleeves, showing her the safety buckles and letting her fasten them herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stung a little at first, but quickly became more cooling, and warm at the same time. It felt nice, and once she’d relaxed a little, the bed lifted up so she could sit and breathe more of the oxygen from the mask, Kosmo jumped over, laying down alongside her, a giant fluffy puddle of warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nuzzled her hand as Merla used some of whatever fluid was making her skin feel better to wipe her face, and persuaded her to let her give her some eye drops. That was hard, and she cried a bit, expecting flames and pain, but it was just a kind of saline bath, like when she got iron filings in her eye in school once, and the teacher had to wash them out. Merla told her it was in case any of the chemicals had got into her eyes, to keep her from any ocular damage, and this time she managed to trust her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inside of the ambulance was sheltered from most of the chaos outside; the noise was faded, and her head didn't ache so much away from it. As Keith came back in through the open doorway, she could see the burning house, lighting up the night sky like a beacon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merla convinced him to let her look at his leg, which looked bloodied and a little swollen through his burned trousers—“I just want to check your leg! Please DCI Hawkins, you shouldn’t even be walking!”—as he sat down in the passenger seat by the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he let the paramedic check him over, he kept talking to her, telling her what was happening as they looked out of the windows. The air ambulance had landed, and the driving pods were being swapped to make the journey home easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie listened wearily. She wanted to talk. She wanted to sleep. Someone had put a dressing on her right wrist, a pressure cuff on her arm, and something clipped onto her finger</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s hands were warm too, wrapped around her left hand, where she could see the dim shape of blurred neat scrawl. Her words were fading already. They had taken so long to show up, nearly a week, but they were already hazy. She could hardly see them anymore</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe she just couldn’t see properly. She was exhausted. Would it really be so bad if she tried to sleep for a while? Could she really trust herself to? What if something happened? What if she needed to run?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just wanted to go home. She didn't want to feel sick, or like her skin was burning, or ache. The blanket was helping though, and the sound of Keith’s voice was nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the gentle attention from Merla, and the silent but reassuring presences beside her, Katie felt herself drifting off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The oxygen mask was helping a little too. She felt like she was breathing a little better, and she felt warm. Not the uncomfortable warmth of the cellar that had felt as though was drowning her in burning dryness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt cosy. Nothing pinched or pulled or stung other than the injuries she already had, and some of them even started to hurt less. Was there some kind of pain killer in the blanket besides the neutralising agents? She wasn't sure, but she settled, and at some point, she fell asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t really sleep. More an in-and-out-doze</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure how long for, or what woke her, but she started, gripping the hand around her fingers, reaching out to the warmth of Kosmo’s fur with the other hand as she tried to orientate herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something wrapped around her, a kind of tightness. Beside her the giant dog whined,licking her fingers as she yanked for whatever was tied around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” he told her. “It’s okay, I promise. They’re just so it doesn’t fall off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie examines the straps on the blanket, realising he was right. She wasn't tied up. They were just little buckles like a seatbelt to keep the blanket closed. The sleeves meant she could move her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merla made me wear one too, see?” He added, pulling at sleeves of the smaller version he’d also been wrapped up in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing her eyes, Katie breathed in, relaxing a little. It was easier to breathe again. She realised she had been asleep, and wondered how much time had passed. Through the pod windows she could see the glow of a city creeping closer and closer as she scratched Kosmo’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were so many things she wanted to ask, needed to say, but her throat was dry as bones. Would she even be able to say anything? She'd tried earlier and nearly blacked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning back against the pillow she breathed in, and tried again. “… he said…” the words came out choked and raspy but she could just manage this time. If she paused for a breath, she could just about manage a few words. “…he…they wouldn’t find me,” she said, trying to fight her exhaustion to talk to him. “…no idiots and their dogs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say, but it was all that was coming to her. She knew what she wanted to say, to ask, but she was tired. It was hard just to try to talk and when she did it was dizzying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith listened though. It didn’t seem as though he knew what she was talking about—how could he? He hadn’t heard Sendak talking to her before he started the call to the police—but he listened anyway, and still held her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Kosmo definitely proved him wrong,” he said gently, reaching over and scratching his dog’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled a little, getting her breath back, and copying the scratches (much to his dog’s happiness, if the speed of his tail wagging was any indication), but still disappointed. Mostly with herself for not being able to explain herself better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she mumbled, once she had caught her breath, reaching her left hand out to his right, hoping he might understand that way. She was tired, and as he gripped her fingers she could already feel herself drifting again. It was so hard to concentrate, and not because of any drugs this time. “He said they wouldn’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith squeezed her hand. “It’s okay,” he promised her. He sounded tired too, but it didn’t seem as though he’d picked up on the gesture. Whatever he told you, he was wrong; you’re safe now,” he repeated. “Look,” Katie followed the directions of his other hand out of the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bright lights of the city could have been anywhere, were it not for the brightly lit screens of the satellite towers showing various advertisements, a bright blur of glow and phosphorescence in the night. “Teludav Tower,” Keith said. “You’re nearly home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were in Marchanda already? Was that really Teludav Tower? It felt like aeons had passed since she had last seen it, when Bogh had been hauling out of her room after the window blew in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DaiRugger…” she mumbled, gripping his fingers, looking at his eyes for confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just like you told us,” Keith said; his voice sounded different but she couldn’t really place the tone. “I’m sorry.” Why was he sorry? What for? “I’m sorry, I—We couldn’t reach you sooner…” Oh. She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to apologise, but she something held her voice back. “…but it’s just a little longer. Your family is waiting at the hospital. You’ll see them soon Katie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie tried to repeat herself, but each time her words were just swallowed by wheezes and splutters that made him urge her to take slow breaths, and to try not to talk. In what felt like minutes, they were already landing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hover pad couplings snapped into place, and the door opened, the ramp lowering with a pneumatic hiss, and air swirled through the chamber as Merla pushed the bed out of the ambulance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers stayed around hers as they wheeled her out towards the air ambulance, reassuring at every moment; they were warm, real, a physical promise that she wasn't dreaming, or hallucinating.</span>
  <em>
    <span> She was safe now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie, can you still hear me sweetheart?” Merla asked as the sky roamed overhead, the orange glow of the city and sound of horns of sirens echoing below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie managed a nod as Kosmo leapt off the bed; dimly. she realised Keith was gone—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—and wondered if he had been swarmed by doctors too. He’d been hurt, and the Komar had got onto his skin too. He’d been holding her, so that was probably why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The doctors are going to take over from here and get you to De-Con, but I promise you’re in good hands, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much was going on all of a sudden. Where was Keith? She felt like she could hear him behind her somewhere—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, she’s scared…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—but everything was getting foggy again, and she was so tired it was hard to keep track.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…roken wrist, some pretty severe abrasions from being restrained, and some old cigarette burns below the Komar burns. Malnourished and dehydrated…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple more people, doctors in yellow uniforms and white coats had joined her. Katie tried to look around at the faces, but she felt dizzy again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…given her some fluids, but she’s going to need more soon. Had some smoke inhalation but she’s coming back from that pretty well. She might have some ocular damage, but it’s hard to tell. She’s shown some signs of light sensitivity, but she was okay when I dimmed the back lights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything in regard to her mental state before we get her to Cryo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing specific, but I’m reasonably sure I saw some pretty strong elements of PTSD. We had to let the DCI and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>dog</span>
  </em>
  <span> in just to get her into the compression suit, and she wouldn’t take the oxygen until he showed her it wasn’t poison. Other than that, she’s pretty disassociated. Shock, too, and to put the cherry on it all, her soul bond has been claimed—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> But her file says unclaimed! That stream—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—I know, but check her wrist yourself if you don’t believe me. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s with the DCI. His are gone too, but they hadn’t faded as much when I checked him over; Cossack’s briefing the guys dealing with him—don’t ask—but yeah, not sure if you want to bring that up with her family or not. …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were talking about her. She found it hard to keep track of the conversation though. Maybe because she really believed she was okay now, but more likely because she was just tired. She could sleep now and not worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Katie? Can you hear me?” Someone was asking. their voice was slow and calm; it was one of the doctors. She managed a nod, looking around to see a dark-skinned man with a shaved head and friendly eyes peeking out over a paper mask. “My name is Doctor Gorma,” he introduced himself. “I’m going to be looking after you while you’re in De-Con and Cryo,” he told her</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decontamination. Cryosurgery. Merla had told her she’d be taken there, hadn’t she? Because of the Komar fluid. It made sense. Her stomach churned anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, it sounds like a lot, but I promise, you’ll feel a ton better after all those nasty chemicals are off your skin,” he told her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did sound nice. The blanket Merla had wrapped her up in had helped, but it felt weird. She just wanted to curl up in a bed somewhere and sleep until all the chaos was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed was moving again, and a digital eye shield appeared over her head as the bed passed beneath bright hospital hallway ceiling lights. The smell of surgical spirit chased away the scent of smoke from beneath her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie frowned, trying to open her eyes again when she heard another voice. The smell of freesias and sweet peas was more powerful than the sterile hospital scents. Something that was ingrained in better memories, home, a familiar fragrance she’d never thought she’d come across again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs Holt, please, wait! Her skin is still—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Mmum,” she croaked out. She could feel gentle hands on her hair, and felt her eyes welling up as someone kissed her forehead. She could smell freesias. That was her mother’s perfume. Were her parents here? Was her mum here? She wanted to see her, but Katie didn’t think she could move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, the fragrance faded, and she was moving again, but it lingered, and as the lights of the hallway passed behind the light dimming shield, Katie stopped trying to process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really was safe. She was in a hospital. She could smell her mother’s perfume. For once, Fate had been on her side. She was okay. She didn’t need to know what was going on just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just for a moment, she could stop, and that was what she did. She let her mind drift away into the peaceful realms of rest as the bed drifted along the hall.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>First chapter of the final (?) part! Hope you all survived the last two stories, but I promised <strong>Happy Endings™️</strong> and we aren't quite there yet. I actually had the ideas for this story first after reading Luce's HCs but of course instead of just writing this, my brain went,  '<em>Wait, but how did it all happen exactly?</em>'.</p><p>...then I wrote more than the total word count for the Harry Potter books combined ~<em>Face-Palms~</em></p><p>I'd already resigned myself to my inability to write anything Belo 10K, but I may have to up that to 20K. Hmm. IN ANY CASE, THE RECOVERY ROAD IS BEGINNING ❤︎ This story probably won't be as regular as the others have been<span>—</span>I'm working on Sugar still, as well as my next behemoth of a project too, so will probably be using this as a break from those.</p><p>I also want to make sure I have the research done right. I don't have PTSD, so I don't want to treat this lightly. Luckily I have an aunt who's a psychologist, and I'm currently on a Cognitive Behavioural Therapy course, so I will definitely be tapping into those resources where I can.</p><p>Hope you enjoyed the first chapter ad that you're all doing okay in the craziness that the world is now ✧</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hope That Springs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When the police car Matt and his parents travelled in with Kolivan and Romelle reached Marchanda University Hospital, it was busy and bustling with patients, paramedics, doctors and nurses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered through a back door to avoid causing more disturbance to the other people who had need of the services, and made their way up to the cryogenic treatment ward. Silent with relief and unease, uncertain what was going to happen next as they found a visitors room, and waited for news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt sat down beside his wife, already exhausted just from the turn of events that had led them to the hospital. After the call came through that Katie was in the air ambulance, and being flown back to Marchanda with Keith, it had felt like a weight had been lifted, but that hasn’t been the case at the station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, it had been unclear what had been going on, besides the distinct impression that absolutely everything had gone wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad had been asked back into the investigation control hub towards the end of the call, while Matt sat with his mother, letting her cling and cry and plead for fate’s mercies as they waited for the dreaded news that the prototype had detonated, that the worst had happened, just like they feared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t left the room for some time, which had only added to the uncertainty; why would they call his father in unless it was for Katie’s benefit? If she was okay, they would have told everyone. The fact that only his father went in was enough to confirm Matt’s belief that he would never see his sister alive again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three people would have been too much, and his dad had been the one she’d spoken to the most in the limited calls they’d been given with her since she had been kidnapped. One familiar face might be enough to give her reassurance, let her believe she might still have a chance so that she didn’t die believing she had none all, or give her a minor piece of comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt hadn’t been sure if that was kinder or not. He hoped it was. If the police couldn’t stop Sendak from murdering her—live on camera, his mind reminded him, on a stream neither he nor his mother couldn’t bring themselves to watch—then they could maybe spare her from knowing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, if Katie had sabotaged the designs the way Romelle had told them, after Keith had rushed out to the hoverpods with his team, she might already know. Why else would she have done it? If she had nothing left to lose, including her life, then his sister wasn’t the kind of person to let her efforts in anything be wasted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course she’d make the prototypes unusable to the terrorists using her for extortion. She was too stubborn to do anything else. He couldn’t think about what she was going through—he couldn’t, wouldn’t, his parents were absolutely destroyed and they’d need help when the news came—but he could still admire her all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt had always been proud of his baby sister; she was a rare kind of intelligent, like their dad: graduating school early, already making a name for herself in the tech world she’d thrown herself into without any hesitation. But after being forced to watch her suffer and struggle, his admiration had increased tenfold. He didn’t think he’d have had the same determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd been steeling himself to keep thinking that way, for his parents’ sake; he still hadn’t really reconciled all the anger with them, or disown his belief that their attempt to shelter Katie since her sixteenth birthday, protect her from this very thing, had been too much, and in so doing, doomed her to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had mellowed as the last of the months of Romelle’s pregnancy passed, and he began to think more like a parent again. He reminded himself that he already knew what his parents were facing, and that as awful as it had been to loose Bryan, his sister was old enough to be a major presence in their lives, and young enough still that losing her was going to be even harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also began to doubly understand the terror they were going through. He had enough trouble thinking about Katie, what had been happening to her for the past six weeks, but when he tried to imagine how he would feel if it was his kid, if Bryan had lived, or if it were the child they were waiting for now... then after putting himself in his father’s shoes, he couldn’t be as angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he’d given himself a kick up the backside, grown a pair, and told himself there was time for him to work out how not to follow his parents' example with his own child later. First he had to help them deal with the loss of his sister. The loss of a child was something he did know, and he couldn’t let his parents deal with that alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was prepared, he thought. He’d seen the way Romelle had steeled herself a little more, trying to stay positive, but the realism she’d held privately from day one began to show more clearly with each day that had passed, and for that Matt had been glad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d never tried to sugar-coat things for him, so he really thought he was prepared. No more water fights at the lake house. No more stupid prank wars between their offices, no more midnight VR gaming marathons, or nights watching bad stream dramas on the sofa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He prepared himself for the fact that he would never see his sister again, that their last conversation hadn’t been an argument after a prank too far, but a phone call during which she’d been crying and beyond the help he should have been able to give her. That his last memories of her were dictated by a terrorist in hour long slots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not cosy stargazing on the swing seat at their family’s holiday home, or the outrageous laughter when they beat an offending party in KBP, or anything else he’d always pictured as the things that made Katie, Katie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then his dad had stumbled out of the control hub with tears streaming down his face, and he hadn’t been prepared at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a whole five seconds his sister was gone. Killed. Murdered, live for the world to see in the worst way possible for anyone to die, and he’d felt part of the world crack and crumble. His father had staggered over to them, and sobbed into his mother’s hands and lap after his legs gave out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith got to the cellar,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he’d said. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s alive. He found her, she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle had been in the room with him, and as his father and mother had held each other, Matt had looked at his wife, standing in the doorway to the control hub, tears streaking over her face; she’d nodded at him, and he’d felt his own knee’s buckle sitting on the sofa he’d been sharing with his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then her arms had been around his neck, and he’d cried into his wife’s shoulder before they all ended up huddled together, relief flooding them as more news came in from the rescue teams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith apparently had his own problems after a run in with Sendak, but he was more focused on Katie, who had latched onto him, recognising someone trying to help her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they made their way to Marchanda General Hospital once the ambulance pods had been sent enroute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt could see a couple of the other people watching, dragged by early hour accidents or emergency to wait for news of their own families and loved ones, but for the most part (aside from one woman, with black and purple hair, who approached his mother with some kind words when she went to the water fountain, and spoke to Romelle at the door for a while) they gave them privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” He asked as Romelle settled back down, an ebook in hand burrowing under one of the blankets the hospital staff had given them for the wait; both his parents were already asleep under their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle nodded as she snuggled beside him. “She was just checking in with me,” she explained. “That's Krolia and Thace, Keith’s mum and stepdad,” she explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt blinked, glancing at the pair. “I thought they lived in Yendailian?” He asked. How had they arrived so quickly? The barren, almost inhospitable desert county was over a thousand miles from Marchanda at its nearest major airport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kolivan called her a couple of days ago; he’s been… worried. About Keith,” she said hesitantly. “Has been for a while now. They landed this afternoon when everything started getting crazy. When Kolivan heard from Zethrid that Keith had a run in with Sendak, he called her up here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt did remember someone saying Keith was injured too. That he’d been fighting with Sendak, to the point that he couldn’t even stand up, but he was still trying to help his sister, and he believed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd been around the station, seen Keith and his team literally working for days with only power naps and take-away food to see them through. If there were any critics of how the investigation had been handled, he’d dare them to argue about the methods and tactics when it had been Keith himself who pulled his sister from a burning building on a live feed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was with that in mind that he made a couple of posts to the personal and business social media accounts, informing people that Katie had been rescued, alive, and was being taken to hospital for medical treatment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from passing the time, and keeping him from thinking too much, it would help corral the media situation; there were already reports about police activity, and it would be better for everyone, Katie included, to try and keep a grip on the media situation that was only going to continue to evolve from then onwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to get the wording right, but it was something to pass the dragging minutes as they waited for news. It was like the night of the fire all over again, a lot of waiting around without much knowledge of what was going on until it was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr and Mrs Holt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arrival of a doctor prompted them all back to exhausted attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Dr Peter Gorma,” he introduced himself once they were all settled. “I’m a Cryogenicist; I’ve just heard from the ambulance team and while we do need to progress with your daughter’s treatment with some urgency, there might be a moment for you to see her when the ambulance arrives. I’ll be going up to meet the paramedic team now if you would like to wait in the hallway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The response was an overwhelming yes, and while Matt held himself back—mostly to make sure Romelle was alright as she got up awkwardly from the low-seated hospital sofas—his parents were well ahead, already talking to a nurse who was waiting with them by one of the desks. Romelle headed further with her own cause, towards Kolivan who was talking to another doctor, before they disappeared too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, the lift doors pinged open at the other end of the hallway, and a couple of doctors, including Dr Gorma, appeared again, guiding the bed down the hallway towards them, though not fast enough for his mother as soon as the familiar shade of sandy brown hair could be made out amongst all the blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt felt his stomach churn as she rushed in before the doctors could stop her—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mrs Holt, please, wait! Her skin is still–</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—and wrapped her arms around the tiny, unconscious figure of his sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't sure if he’d forgotten how small she was in person, or if it was just a combination of the gaunt pallor on her skin, weight loss, and blankets and monitors piled around her, shrinking her in the bed. There were bandages and dressing all over her, hiding the burns, but not the bruises, or the traces of blood left on her face, or how still she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he hadn’t heard already that she was alive, and couldn’t see the cloud of condensation inside her breathing mask, see and hear the machines monitoring her heartbeat, blood pressure, Matt might have thought the worst had happened. That he’d heard wrong, or that something had happened during the flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never seen Katie so still and quiet, and that, perhaps more than knowing why she had been strung down to almost bones of herself, was the most terrifying part of the picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mumbled something, not really awake but not quite unconscious, and between her own tears, his mother, fingers closing onto her hand at the last moment before the Doctors moved off with the bed, then turned into his father’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, the nurse led them back to the waiting room, but Matt waited for Romelle; Krolia and her partner had appeared with them, talking to a different doctor, and he could tell Katie wasn’t the only one his wife was worried about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d left with Kolivan, who had appeared with Keith’s parents, with one of the doctors, and sure enough, not long behind his sister, came another bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith was unconscious too, bruised and bloody, and Kolivan and Mrs Hawkins followed the team looking after him as he passed, and Romelle stopped in the hallway, sitting down on the chairs beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the doctors immediately started talking to Keith’s parents, and Matt reached out an arm to his wife, letting her close and feeling the tension from her shoulders drop in the embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They took Katie to get decontaminated I think,” he said quietly, not sure what else to say; Romelle had seen her arrive already. “She looked bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle squeezed his fingers, reaching up and wiping tears from under his eyes. “They’ll look after her,” she said quietly. “She finally made it home; she won’t stop now, and most of her injuries are surface ones.” She paused. “She’ll need help, later…” she added, her tone clear––Katie’s physical injuries would be her easiest hurdle to recover from, but whatever mental traumas she’d been left to live with following her abduction wouldn’t disappear so easily, if they ever would. “…but she’ll get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sounded like she was telling herself that, but Matt appreciated the words all the same; hand on her stomach, he could feel their little hellion clamouring, perhaps woken from their nap by all the excitement from their mother, and rubbed circles before they started kicking too hard again. “Did they say anything?” he asked quietly. “About Keith?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle shook her head. “They don’t know yet, he… He hardly let the paramedics look at him,” she said. “It was all they could do to check him for smoke inhalation and give him pain killers during the flight; I’ve known him since Kraydah, the academy, and…” she paused again, sounding as though she was about to say something, before thinking better of it. Maybe something related to the investigation. “…I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen him like this Matt..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “He’s kind of intense and stubborn huh?” He’s picked up that much just from talking to Keith, seeing how focused he was. He never seemed to stop. “Like Katie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle tensed for a moment. “Yeah, they’re practically peas in a pod,” she laughed weakly, voice cracking a little before a sigh. “We should go find your parents,” she said. “They’ll need you close right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt nodded, and keeping his arm around her shoulders they headed off back down the hall to find his parents, and await whatever news there would be to follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As anyone might have predicted, it was the next morning before they got an update, and they were all camped out with blankets and pillows from the hospital staff when Dr Gorma returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little bit more revitalised, and eager to hear anything, they skipped on the offer of getting some food from the hospital cafe first, and the doctor launched straight into his update.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell you that none of Katie’s injuries are life threatening,” he said; the drop of tension from Matt’s shoulders was only less dramatic than his father’s. “The paramedics did a great job of neutralising the Komar fluid, so her burns from that aren’t as prevalent as we were expecting; she responded well to decontamination, and most of them are already starting to show signs of healing without scarring in the cryochamber.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most of them?” His mother asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are one or two that are slightly more severe, probably where her clothing or the restraints used on her aggravated the chemical on her skin,” the doctor explained. “Or where previous burns and injuries were present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother inhaled then nodded. Matt felt Romelle gripping his hand, and he squeezed back. It was hard to hear as it had been to know what had happened to his sister, but they had to if they were really going to help her recover from all of this. It was only the first step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She had some smoke inhalation at the scene, but she responded well to the paramedic treatment, and it’s being monitored,” Dr Gorma continued. “Right now, our focus is on her ocular response, and creating some biological grafts within the cryochamber to help the more severe burns along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ocular response?” Matt asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor nodded again. “The paramedics noticed a significant amount of light sensitivity and confusion, so we’ve been monitoring and comparing those readouts from the pod to Katie’s previous health scans, alongside a few other things,” he said. “After being blindfolded for so long, and possible contamination from the Komar, we have noticed a slight difference on her retinal readings, though I can confirm she hasn’t been blinded. It may just be temporary, but again, it is something we’re playing close attention to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fates mercies, as if being scarred and traumatised wasn’t bad enough she might be left with problems with her eyes too? Matt felt like he was going to be sick, and it was only by reminding himself that his parents needed the emotional support that kept him from throwing up right there and then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The paramedics also treated her for a broken wrist, and most of the more minor abrasions, and those are starting to heal well, but something I’d like to talk about is some potential internal therapies that may help reduce some of the mental trauma she’s experienced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents nodded, and Matt processed the words he’d only heard of on dramas, or the news. Decontamination. Cryosurgery. Common words in the day’s talk of medicine, but not ones he’d ever been exposed to so directly. Not even when Romelle’s last pregnancy started to show signs of complications.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of treatment is that?” He asked.”You said she’s in a cryopod so how…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pods allow us to monitor neural activity, and based off Katie’s previous annual health scans, we can make some limited comparisons, and see where there have been divergences in her responses compared to her previous, normal scans,” he explained. “While the technology is still limited in what it can do—we aren’t machines, and every person who goes through trauma will always have a different way of responding and coping with what they’ve experienced—it can help to start offset over-activated brain chemistry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m following so far,” Matt nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In Katie’s case, we’re seeing most of the activation in the parts of her brain that deal with emotional processing; with the pod, we can introduce familiar sounds, aromas. Since we generally associate memory with those senses, it can be a good way to start a mental healing process by introducing them to a patient inside the pod,” the doctor continued. “The stipulation is, it needs to be something the patient will find familiar, or comforting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt realised what he was asking immediately. “Mum, your perfume,” he said quickly. It was something innocuous maybe, but he knew that Katie had snuck a bottle of the stuff their mother had made by a natural process perfumeier into her bags when she first moved into her apartment. “She loves the smell of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother looked at the doctor, a little more alert. “I have a travel bottle in my handbag if that would work?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor nodded, and she immediately opened the bag, handing him a travel, refillable atomiser, and a bottle of the product itself. “Do you mind if we use this or would you prefer to have it be reproduced synthetically?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep it,” his mother said. “If it can help, I don’t need it back, though maybe the empty bottles,” she added, a tired attempt at humour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Thank you, I can’t promise how much it will help, but any starting point on her emotional recovery is advantageous; given the severity of your daughter’s experience, I’ve already spoken to an external specialist who works with patients that have been in similar situations. He actually called me and asked to be considered if necessary. He’s very highly qualified, and experienced with criminal cases too. With your permission, I’d like to contact him so that when Katie comes around, we can start helping her recover psychologically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, please,” his dad nodded. “Do you know how long before…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might take around a week for the pod to work on most of the burns. Beyond that, for these types of injuries, we’d normally let the patient awaken normally and heal at a natural rate, as too much usage for lesser injuries can sometimes cause more problems, so we’ll be following that procedure.,” the doctor said. “I need to go back now, but I’ll make sure you are informed of any more news or changes with your daughter’s condition,” he promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left the room after some polite goodbyes, and for the first time in a long time, Matt could feel a little reassurance and normality return, if only in the knowledge that the future his sister deserved was still waiting.</span>
</p><hr/><p>The first time Keith woke up he was fairly certain he was on morphine, or some kind of serious painkiller.</p><p>
  <span>He was certain that Kolivan had three heads, and kept laughing at the way his hand waved in sync with the trunk of the blue yalmor that had made a nest at the end of his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pretty sure he was in a hospital, because someone in a white lab coat kept trying to talk to him, but he told them to </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and instead demanded the yalmor bring him his dog. Then he’d fallen asleep again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second time he woke up, things were a little clearer. For one thing, he was no longer seeing double vision, though one of his eyes did have gauze covering it. Lots of things ached. Not too painfully, but enough to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he regained some clarity, Keith stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room, doing his best to remember everything that had happened. Bits and pieces came to him, but a lot of it was still blurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An alert must have gone off, because a nurse came in, persuaded him to drink something, and following his entry into the room, a doctor, who kindly explained why he felt like he’d been whacked around the head with a bag of bricks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minor smoke inhalation. Concussion. Fractured leg and jaw, and bruised ribs. Some minor singeing from the explosion. By the time the ambulance had arrived at the hospital, he’d been so dazed he could hardly string a sentence together, let alone stand up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith processed that and decided it felt about right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't even sure how he had managed to stay standing up at all, thinking back. Probably adrenaline. It had only been his concentration on Katie that kept him from collapsing sooner. Since he could remember getting to hospital and seeing Romelle, he assumed he had passed out after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following the application of the cast now trapping him in the bed, and a short stint in a cryopod to accelerate his healing a little, he’d been taken to decontamination to be on the safe side, but he hadn't received any injuries from coming into contact with the Komar fluid on Katie’s skin, or any major burns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he had a collection of scrapes and bruises, and when one of the doctors asked him if it was alright to message to ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr Rolstron, and Mrs Hawkins and her partner</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ about his coming around, Keith had stupidly agreed before falling asleep again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third time he woke up, he was much more lucid, and Kolivan was sitting in the chair beside the bed, arms crossed, and for once, he looked like his sixty-five years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least you’ve saved me the headache of making you take a holiday,” he sighed. “You do realise you are the reason I keep putting off my retirement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have never once talked about retiring and I don’t believe you,” Keith mumbled, leaning back on the pillows after trying to shift them a little; his side flared and upon wincing, Kolivan did it for him. “You’re a workaholic too. How long have I been out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About a week,” Kolivan said, pouring him a glass of water, holding it out along with a metal straw; Keith gratefully took it and had a few mouthfuls. “I’ve been given instructions to let Romelle and your mother know you’re awake,” he said, taking out his phone as Keith sipped. “They went to take Kosmo on a walk. Your mum and Thace have been staying at your flat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, then nodded, taking a few more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve given me more greys than I needed before, but this?” Kolivan sighed. “You’ve never pushed things, pushed yourself, to this extent. This isn’t like you, Keith. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you just let the support team take over?” He asked, clearly confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith tried to come up with a reason. He really did, but it just wasn’t there. He’d just been working off the urgency that had been swallowing him since the investigation started, that no one else seemed to see, or feel quite the same way, adrenaline, his own panic, and the trust Katie had put in him after they made it beyond the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been screaming and crying and begging for him not to hurt her. How was he supposed to—</span>
</p><p>‘<em>Please don’t hurt me!</em>’</p><p>
  <span>—ignore that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it felt like a good idea at the time and Katie was freaking out whenever anyone else came close so…” he shrugged, the fingers of his right-hand clenching beneath the covers of the hospital duvet. “W-What happened to Kosmo?” He asked, picking up the drinking glass and taking another sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you’re worried about your dog,” Kolivan sighed, putting away his phone. “Your mum and Thace have been looking after him, after convincing him to leave at any rate. Amongst other things, he’s apparently sulking because he hasn’t seen you for a couple of days, but is otherwise fine. They took him to a vet to have him checked over, and he’s doing much better than you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith grinned absently, his mind distracted; had he imagined it? Those words? Everything had happened so fast he really couldn’t remember. He’d had a concussion though. He was probably just overthinking it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had to be it. There was no way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened after the air ambulance left the scene? What happened to Lance?” he asked, pointing his tone on each question, anything to turn his mind away from the gnawing worry slowly growing in it. “Was Sendak’s body found? How did the media react? What…” he paused. “...what about Katie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan stared at him, then groaned. “Keith, for once, can’t you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He pleaded. “You did it, you found her, you took chances that were a little bit crazy, and thank fate’s mercies you did because that poor woman would have been dead if you hadn’t. Isn’t that enough for now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith started. “I just want to know what’s going on, I…” he didn’t really know what to say. Was he really that bad? He just wanted to know what had happened after the dust began to settle was all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His perplexity must have shown because Kolivan sighed again, rubbing his head with one hand. “You’re your own worst enemy, you know that?” he muttered,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve told me before,” Keith agreed. “Come on, I can’t do anything with this on anyway, and I know you won’t bring me any reports to work on so I don’t have any choice about resting, do I?” He asked, pointing at the cast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan looked like he desperately wanted to argue as he leaned back in the chair. “Lance got picked up by Alfor’s team; he’d been hit up the back of the head by Sendak, we think, but he’s fine. A little concussion, but he’s already home,” he started. “The fire teams found Sendak; he was taken to a high security hospital in Muldok. He'll live to go to trial, as far as I know. I hope so, because he’s looking at the death penalty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand being able to put the man before a trial was good—it meant closure for all of the victims of his attack, Katie included—but he also hated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him wished he’d burned in the fire of his own making instead, the way he had done to so many other people who had just been going about their lives. The way he’d planned to do to Katie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Kolivan could continue, the door cracked open and Romelle poked her head around the door. “Kolivan? Is he still—” she broke off eyes snapping to him, before throwing the door open. “—Keith!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle didn’t throw herself at him—aside from being mindful of his ribs, her belly wouldn’t let her—but her arms wrapped around his neck, and he didn’t begrudge her. It was kind of nice, and let his arm drop around her shoulders. “Hey,” he greeted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle leaned back, hands on his shoulders and seethed a little. “Don’t ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ me Keith,” she said. “You scared us! Zethrid was nearly crying! Tabor and Regris were crying! What were you thinking?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently, he wasn’t,” Kolivan snorted, getting to his feet. “I need to make a quick call, so you can ask Romelle those last couple of questions,” he said. “I’ll be outside if you need anything, either of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed the door behind him and Rommel frowned. “Are you seriously trying to get back on the case already?” She asked. “Keith, you just woke up! You need to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rest, I know,” Keith said, nodding a little shakily. “And I will,” he promised. “I just wanted to know the fallout stuff, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle sighed. “You’re really impossible sometimes,” she muttered. “So? What were you asking Kolivan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith let out a breath. “What the media situation is,” he shrugged. “And how… how she’s doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle watched him, her expression unreadable as she extended her hand out to the one that laid atop the covers. “Matt made a couple of social media posts once the air ambulance was on the way here, and he spoke to a couple of the news crews outside the hospital yesterday,” she said quietly, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “So far, it's good. People want details but there’s enough going on with the whole case and Sendak being in custody that the press are a little scattered, so they’re busy, but out of the way mostly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nodded. That was good. The less the media were focussed on the hospital the more time the family had for privacy, something they were all going to need soon enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle remained silent, and Keith debated whether or not he should ask again but he needed to know something, and had already asked once, so he took a breath and asked the last question a third time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Katie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle bit her lip. “Why do you want to know?” she asked. “It’s over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith snorted. “No, it’s not,” he scoffed. “It nowhere near over. Sendak’ll go to trial, and Katie will be called up as a key witness. She’s had more interaction with him than anyone except the cultists themselves; it's going be the biggest public criminal trial for years, but that’s not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was getting angry just thinking about the farce it would be. Sendak shouldn’t be brought to trial at all. He should have just burned up in the fire and saved everyone the moral dilemma of what to do with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… you weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘Melle. She was so scared and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shuffled, gripping his wrist and covering up the skin on the underside with his hand. He just wanted to know what had happened to her. If she’d been okay. If she’d made it through surgery yet. She’d had more surface injuries than he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he sighed finally; this was stupid. Romelle was right; there was no reason for him to ask beyond professional courtesy. “It doesn’t really matter,” he stressed, mostly to himself; maybe Kolivan was right. Maybe he was fixating on this case too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Please don’t hurt me!’</em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” he shrugged. It was probably better if he didn’t ask, really. “Forget it.” Keith had a horrible feeling he didn’t want to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle eyed him, her face unreadable, then she bit her lip and pulled the chair Kolivan had been sitting in closer. “She’s been to decontamination and Cryo; they had her in for a few days to start a couple of skin grafts for her side and back started. They finished enough to take her out yesterday, and she’s been in ICU since they opened the pod up. Besides a few minor burns and a broken wrist, it’s a case of waiting till she wakes up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a feeling there was more to it, but the short versions enough. He could only imagine the rest. Keith let out a breath and closed his eyes before he looked up at the ceiling, then glanced at his friend again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle looked worried about something still, and he got the impression he already knew what about. He knew it wasn’t his injuries either. She’d already yelled at him for those, and she was too quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up again, he shifted his hand under the covers. “ ‘Melle?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you look at something for me?” he asked, forcing the words out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle’s expression was already falling as he turned his head towards her, holding his right arm out, wrist down where he could see the fate-drawn script etched upon his skin. “Keith, I can’t––”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard something ‘Melle,” he said. “I don’t know if it was right and I… I don’t… I can’t look, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he begged. “I need to know, but I’m…” Scared. “…I don’t want to be right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't want to be, but Keith had a feeling he was, that he wasn't hallucinating or imagining, that he’d heard those words he’d been dreading all his life from Katie Holt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same feeling that felt like it had been burning through the back of his mind since this investigation began, at a burning building, when Kosmo had barked at an unmarked, indistinguishable microvan, and he’d walked right past it, only to later learn in the investigation Katie had been right there, within reach, just for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be right though. He didn’t want it to be true at all, because if it was, not only did it mean that all of his work in the entire investigation was thrown into doubt, but it meant something much, much worse; it meant that Katie Holt had been put through something horrible, torturous, and traumatic, just so that she could say those words to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would mean that everything he’d tried to avoid, everything he’d done so that didn’t happen, had all been for naught, and his soulmate had still suffered because of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle shuffled uncertainly, looking around, perhaps hoping Kolivan would come back before she finally slumped her shoulders and nodded. Keith felt her hands on his wrist, warm fingers gently and slowly turning it over, running over the skin as he kept his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment for him to hear any response from her, but the silence before the sniff of tears starting would have been an answer alone before her voice cracked through the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to set you guys up. At the wedding,” she said, her voice uneasy. “I thought… I thought you’d get along like a house on fire...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith kept his eyes closed, holding his breath, waiting for what he already knew but hoped wasn’t coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-They’re gone, Keith.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>And so we get to chapter two. Keith has found out what's up, and he is not okay. Can't say I blame him. Poor Matt has no clue what's going on, and Romelle doesn't know who to worry about first.</p><p>Happy Faces all around tbh :D</p><p>Hope you enjoyed the chapter ❤︎</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Forever Young</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Katie noticed that she was warm. </span>
  <span>It didn't sound like the sort of thing she really ought to notice, but when her eyes were closed and her body was still from rest, it was the most penetrating sensation in her awareness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was warm. Not overheated, or burning, or aching or suffocated by everything around her, just a calm, pleasant kind of warm. The sort of cosiness that came from safety and comfort, something she hadn’t felt for a long, long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt like she was floating, at one point, on a moving cloud, and she could smell something. Something gentle and flowery instead of ash and smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was something soft against her skin, like she’d been curled up in one of her mother’s cashmere and shearling blankets, and she gladly curled into the feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of freesias brought memories of the lakehouse, where she and Matt used to help their mother with her gardening as kids. Or back at home, and she'd gone into her parents room at night when she was little, woken by bad dreams. She’d crawl in beside her mum, and the smell of freesias and sweet peas and soothing words would lull her to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>...Katie?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flinched a little as a voice penetrated her comfortable haze, and the smell changed. It wasn’t as strong, but it was also fresher, more familiar. Lesson a memory and more something that she could track beneath her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>…Hi sweetheart…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was someone talking to her? It didn’t sound like Bogh or Sendak. But if she was just dreaming up the peace and comfort then she didn’t want to wake up either. She felt so comfortable, and it was bliss, until something pulled it away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was touching her, their fingers wrapped around her own, and at first she flinched, trying to shake it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” she mumbled, pulling her arm away from whoever was touching her, trying to make out what was going on amongst the bouncing, unpleasantly bright light burning into her eyes when she tried to look around. “Get off of me,” she said, tired and exhausted, her eyes wincing shut again. “Let me go… </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Katie, sweetheart, it’s okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ the fingers in her hands gripped a little looser, gentle, and she felt a light brush of fingers against her forehead. It made her pause. It was a woman’s voice, calm. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay. No-one's going to hurt you, you’re safe.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt like she knew the voice, but it didn’t have the same sharp edges as the white-haired woman’s did. It was a different voice, but whose? She hadn't seen any other women in Sendak’s base. Who was talking to her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just focus on my voice honey, take deep breaths. Take your time.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman was talking to her; she tried to look around but the light seared at her eyes and she winced at the brightness. “W-Where am I?” she mumbled, covering her eyes with her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Turn the lights down a bit more maybe?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ another voice said—male, deeper, but not old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was some shuffling around, and she cowered, expecting the worst, and only finding those soft hands warm on her own as she hid herself away from everything. Their thumb brushed over her knuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know you’re scared sweetheart, but can you open your eyes for me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ the woman’s voice asked. Soft, patient and calm. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie shook her head. “Hurts,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “It hurts…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay, the lights are lower now,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ the woman said, running her hands over her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie tensed under the action, expecting the hand to grip her face, her neck, or dig into her skin. It didn't. It just brushed calmingly through the short tufts of hair around her neck and face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie counted the strokes, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She needed to get herself together and find out what was going on. Focusing on the short gestures from the woman, Katie found herself noticing other things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mattress and covers beneath her were soft. Her headache didn’t feel so bad, and she could hear the silence in the room. Not the eerie kind of silence from her prison rooms, where sounds usually meant she had to deal with Bogh or Sendak, it was just… quiet. She could hear noise somewhere off in the distance, but nothing alarming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In another direction, not distant still she could hear sirens, which rang more than just their wailing calls; she’d heard them before. When she’d first been taken, but not then. She felt like she’d heard sirens recently, along with flashes of light and repetitive sounds glowing in the dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, you’re safe now sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <b>‘<em>You’re safe now</em>.’</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie grappled for her thoughts; she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard sirens, hadn’t she? She’d heard her words, and watched the embers of a burning building end all traces of her former prison from the back of an ambulance. She’d heard sirens all around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that scent: it was of freesias, and sweet peas. Not perfume that was choking on her throat and burned her nose, but soft under her nose and almost sweet on her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first thing that came to mind when she thought of home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She inhaled, counting the strokes. One. Two. Deep breath. Three. Four. exhale. In and out, up to ten, when her mind had slowed, and she felt like she could think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing bad had happened yet. Still obeying and trusting the instinct to make herself as small and tiny as she could, Katie realised she had been talking, out loud, with full un-muffled words that she could hear, follow, and employ in understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could speak. Her throat hurt and her voice was so quiet and raspy and stretched she could hardly hear it, but she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She could move her lips, her tongue, and she could breathe through her mouth. That meant she wasn't gagged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could move her hands, her wrists. Her legs and arms too. She was curled up completely on herself, in a ball, but not like before. Properly, completely contracted around herself. There was nothing tight around her neck, threatening to strangle her either. She wasn’t tied to a post, and the air was clean. She was alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was alive, and she could smell </span>
  <em>
    <span>freesias</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still hesitant, Katie reached an arm out, eyes still screwed shut, not daring to look around yet. As she reached her hand out, the woman's hand reached back, touching her fingers first, before slowly wrapping them around them, loose, before giving her hand a gentle squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're okay, it’s okay,” the woman said, and this time Katie focused on her voice, trying to work out if it was familiar. “Just take your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking as she drummed up whatever was left of her courage, Katie peered and blinked out from behind her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was dimmer now, and didn’t hurt her eyes as much, though she was careful not to look up in case of light blinding her again. There were some purple curtains drawn across a window, and the walls looked like they were white and clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a picture on the wall. No... a diagram? Wrong again, maybe it was some kind of information poster? It had a toilet and shower sign on it? No, it was a door. A bathroom door with a sign. Turning her head, she could see another door, closed, but with a glass panel of light shining through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she looked at her hands, the fingers entwined around her own. Manicured with a bit of translucent shimmery pink nail varnish. An old wedding ring around one finger, and a bond ring on the other hand. Katie followed the hands, arms, looking up at the woman who had been talking to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair was longer, in a messy bun. And she wasn't wearing one of her nice shirts or suits, just a t-shirt and jeans, but Katie recognised her mother. The same sandy coloured short hair, same point in her chin and the crease in her eyebrows that only showed up whenever she worried about something so much she couldn't think of anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breath she had been holding escaped, and Katie looked around the room again. There was someone standing at the end of the bed; was that Matt? It looked like his dumb ponytail. Was it really Matt? Catching her stare, he gave her a wink through wet eyes and a stupid two fingered salute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey sis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked back at her mother. She was sitting in a plastic chair, pulled up beside the bed Katie realised she was lying on as far as it could go, and beside her was a man with greying hair and familiar glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gripped her hands a little tighter, wondering if the hallucination would break. It didn't. “Mum?” she checked hoarsely, hopeful this time, her voice shredding around the simple words. “D-Dad? Matt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother smiled. She looked tired. Like she hadn't slept, but she looked happy, and her hand was warm as the smell of horticulture that always followed her, and Katie felt the panic begin to drip away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really wasn't hallucinating? She really had been rescued?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been pulled out. Someone had made it in time and she was alive. It was over, and she was safe now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in weeks Katie was happy to let the tears stream down her face as she sat up, reaching her arms out and clinging onto her mother when she leaned over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t much of a hug—her arms felt heavy just lifting them—but she indulged in it, sobbed and cried and sniffed for what felt like hours, because it was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she could forget about it all. About Bogh, about Sendak. All the pain and fear constantly hanging around her mind, lurking in the corners of her eyes, an ever-present ghost hovering on skin, waiting to sink in and tear reality apart again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had thought she’d never see her family again, but they were right there in front of her. Her dad was right beside her mum, holding her hand before he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, tears tracing over her father’s cheeks, the lines glinting and disappearing into his beard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No scent of cigarettes or ash lingered under her nose; just the dregs of cologne that had been applied some time ago. Not fresh, but the same kind of scent applied so often it never left. “You're really here?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here honey,” her dad said, his fingers running gently through her hair, holding the back of her head as she curled into him, wanting to be sure all the reassurance his face and the feel of his arms provided did not go wasted. “Everything’s over now, it’s all over, you’re safe,” he promised, sitting down on the bed and helping her as she tried to sit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt came closer, and Katie didn't hesitate to turn to him too. She got a face full of his ponytail where it was hanging over his shoulder, and just sat there, crying from relief into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this really happening? She thought about asking again, just to be sure, but Matt beat her to it. “It’s okay Pidge,” he said. She hadn't heard the nickname for years. Not since they were kids and she was screaming at him </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. “We’re right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while she just basked in the elation seeing her parents and brother brought. Her head had a stinking headache from crying again, but it passed by under the relief and happiness. For a while she hadn’t thought she’d feel anything like it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she came down from the rush of relief, Katie peered at a bag of clear fluid hanging from a drip holder. Following the small thin tube she realised it was connected to her arm through a cannula when she heard footsteps in the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snapping her head towards the door, gripping her brother’s sleeve as he held her, she watched as an unfamiliar, dark-skinned man in orange-yellow scrubs, and pink white head cap dotted with watermelons alongside a white doctor’s coat stepped into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway flashed brightly, and she shielded her eyes with one hand. “Who are you?” She asked; logically, she could tell the man was a doctor, but she still leaned into Matt’s reassuring arm around her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed at the dip again. “What’s that? What kind of drug is that? What are you giving me?” she asked, flicking between the look of the attachment taped to her arm, feeding the fluid into her vins, and the doctor. “No, I don’t want any drugs, no, I don’t want them to put me to sleep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want more drugs. She’d had enough of drugs. She didn’t want more. She didn’t think she’d even be able to take basic painkillers again—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Still, you can have these if you want them,’ Bogh said, holding up a regular sixteen tablet pop sachet of tablets. Holding them closer, she could see ‘paracetamol’ printed on the foil,</span>
  </em>
  <span>—not more drugs. No, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, it's okay sis,” Matt said quickly, grabbing her hands. “Just look at me okay, focus on my voice,” Focus on him? Katie blinked, and looked at her brother, then looked at his hands, which were gently clasping her own. Had she been trying to yank the cannula out? “You’re okay, you’re safe now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie looked at her brother, then the doctor with much less certainty. “I don’t want any drugs, please, don’t let him drug me again,” she pleaded; her face felt wet. Had she had another panic attack?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise, no drugs,” Matt said, reaching a hand out towards the drip. Her mother lifted it up and passed it to him, and he showed her the label. “See? It's just some fluids, no drugs,” he said, carefully putting the clear plastic bag into her hands, label face up. “You’re really dehydrated sis,” Matt explained as she poured over the bag, checking off all the chemical formulas listed, trying to remember if she knew those names or not. “It’s just to get your stats back up to normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were a little blurry, but she could see them, the list of ingredients, some of them words she recognised. Things like sodium, water, vitamins. Katie hadn’t studied biology or medicine, but there were enough crossover elements that she felt better, and let Matt give the bag back to her mother to re hang on the frame beside the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t try to yank the line from her arm again as her eyes settled back on the doctor, but she wanted to. She didn't want it near her. She didn’t want drugs or needles. How was she supposed to know what was in them? She trusted her brother though, and her parents, and if they weren’t worried, things were probably okay. At least she hoped they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask the doctor about it if you want honey?” Her dad suggested, voice quiet and patient, holding her hands when they started shaking a little. The question voice wasn't pointed, and Katie understood the choice was hers. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but he could tell you about the fluids a bit more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked at him a couple of times, then nodded, and looked at the doctor, who had been standing by the doorway, door closed gain, silent and patient as he watched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Katie,” he said, taking an empty seat from the corner of the room and sitting beside her dad. “My name is Dr Peter Gorma. It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He talked with a calm voice, and Matt kept an arm around her shoulders as she eyed him. His tone wasn’t threatening, and she shrugged her shoulders. “I’m… not sure,” she said warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” he said. “Would you like me to tell you about the fluids you’ve been given?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie nodded, and he slowly went through the list of ingredients, telling her what was in the drip; most of the words were ones she had picked out and recognised, so she didn't think he was lying to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like me to change it the next time you’re awake Katie?” he asked. “That way you can see for yourself that they come packed and sealed and haven’t been tampered with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie almost agreed, then started, backing away a little, a little uncertain again. “Next time?” she snapped suspiciously. “What do… you’re not drugging me again!” she protested, reaching for her brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Katie,” Dr Gorma said soberly, and honestly. “I didn’t phrase myself very well; no one is going to give you any sedatives or anything else without your permission,” he assured her. “I meant that after you’ve slept by yourself and had some normal rest; it's been a long few weeks for you, and you’re only just waking from cryosurgery and decontamination, so I imagine you’re feeling a little bit tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie let out a breath as the momentary start faded, and she felt settled again. “Oh,” she mumbled, letting her grip on her brother’s arm drop in its intensity. “I… A little…” she nodded. She did feel tired. “Did you say cryo…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor nodded again. “You’ve been in cryosurgery for a week,” he told her. “So I imagine things feel a little overwhelming and confusing right now, but that will pass. It's just a side effect of being in the pod.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cryosurgery? Decontamination? She looked between her parents, at Matt for confirmation; they both nodded, and Matt squeezed her hand gently, another gentle reminder of reality again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to ask you a few questions and do some checks on your injuries, if you're comfortable with that Katie. If you’re still tired, then we can leave it for another day,” he said. “If it’s easier, maybe you can tell me what you remember?” the doctor said once she’d calmed and Matt had let her climb all over him and use him as a protective barrier. “Do you think that would be okay?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn't sure. Katie didn't know what she wanted to think about, if she trusted herself to even think about what she remembered. She’d already had trouble focusing. “Do I have to?” she asked, her throat feeling dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not if you don't want to,” he assured her. “I do need to check your blood pressure and see how your injuries are healing up, but if you’d rather not do any talking today, that’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Injuries? Now that she thought about it, there were still a lot of aches. Not as bad as she was used to, but they were still there. Katie looked at her arms. There were bandages and dressing on her wrists, and a few smaller ones wrapped over her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the white, loose cotton vest and shorts she was wearing she could feel one on her side, her collarbone, her neck, and she could feel more on her back. There were more still around her knees and ankles where the ropes had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie still wasn’t sure that she wanted anyone she didn’t know touching her, even if the doctor didn’t feel threatening. She reached a hand up to her shoulder, reassuring herself that Matt’s arm was still there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine,” Matt said. “We won’t go anywhere, promise, no-one’s going to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie let out a breath, before giving a short, quick nod, trying to think clearly. She was in a hospital. She could see her parents and she wasn’t imagining the feel of her brother’s arm on her shoulders. Nothing hurt the same way as before. The doctor was just trying to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I can try, but… everything’s hazy…” she said after a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then just what you can tell me,” the doctor said; he didn’t sound mad, so that was probably good. “Just what you remember happening last. You don’t have to tell me anything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trusted Matt and her parents. She didn't think he was lying, and wanted to really believe that the doctor was telling the truth, that he was trying to help. She was in a hospital. She could feel the dressings, and nothing hurt like it did before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want any drugs,” she insisted, watching him carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No drugs,” he nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How long had she been in hospital? And which hospital was it? Nobody had told her that. Where was she? Back in Marchada? What day was it? What was the date? She had so many questions that it was hard to think about what she did know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing she could recall was when she woke up in the cellar, and everything after that was hazy. Flashes of chaos and desperation that she couldn't really put in order; the only standout moment had been...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don't remember,” she said, gripping her left wrist. “I was in a cellar… and then… what happened? Where am I? What day is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You've been here a week,” the doctor repeated calmly. “It's Wednesday the 22nd of September, about twenty to three in the afternoon. You’re in Marchanda University Hospital, Katie,” he said, voice clear and patient. “You were unconscious when you arrived here after the police found you, and you had some Komar burns, which was why we had to take you to cryosurgery,” Dr Gorma explained. “You’ve been in a cryopod for three days, to start the grafts we made from your skin cells taking hold and healing over them, so you might feel a little bit disorientated, but it will pass soon. It's just a side effect of the pod.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was September? Cryopod? Katie didn’t really want to think about anything too deeply, but she did want to know what had happened since she last blacked out. She had been in and out of consciousness so much that she didn’t know up from down, let alone what day of the week or even what month it was, and that was as bad as knowing everything that had happened when she had been awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a breath, Katie tried to remember something cohesive. “...he called mum, then he gave me something, in the car,” she said finally. “Then in the cellar, he stood on my wrist, he was mad, …he found out I messed the design up…” she said trying to piece together everything. “The police were talking, then…” Katie frowned. “It got... hot? The air hurt. I couldn't breathe very well. It felt like…” like her skin was crawling with sticky pain, peeling away. “...my skin was burning.” What had happened after that? “Then someone was there,” she said finally. “There was a dog, a huge dog, and he said I was safe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was jumbled together still. She remembered hearing explosions, sirens, the dog, and the fighting, and finally the relief and assurance of warm protective fingers in her hand. Who had it been again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slightly distracted, and struggling to remember everything, Katie looked around at the room again; she was sitting in a plain, but decently sized hospital bed. The cabinet beside it had a couple of datapads sitting on it, a few get-well soon cards of mysterious origins, glasses, a jug of water beside a bottle of juniberry diluting juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her multi-coloured zigzagged fleece dressing gown was laid over the end of the bed, and on the table, were her dumb rainbow cat-faced slip-ons she used to wear around her apartment in the mornings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie? Honey, what do you mean? Who said that?” her mother asked; Katie ignored her, and missed the shock the words brought to her parents and brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I get here?” she asked, looking at the doors; they didn’t look locked. That was good. In fact, they were both slightly ajar. She could get out, if she needed to. “I don't remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You passed out in the ambulance after the police found you,” Matt told her gently, shifting as she slumped against him; she felt tired. “You’ve been asleep since the paramedics brought you here. Katie, are you sure that’s what you heard?” she asked. “Can you remember who spoke to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie thought about it––someone had definitely told her that, she was sure of it––then nodded as she cast her mind back. Dark hair and a leather jacket, the smell of sweat and laboured breathing stuck in her mind, along with the constant reassurance her words had finally brought her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was tired and thirsty though, and wasn’t sure if she’d heard their name. She wanted to go back to sleep, maybe. She didn't want to yet. She wanted to stay with her family for a bit longer. She glanced at the water again, and before she could even ask, her dad was standing up and pouring some into a glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie,” the doctor caught her attention again. “You probably feel a bit disorientated right now,” he said as her dad sat down again holding the plastic glass out for her. “And I’ll leave you be in a moment, so you can get some rest and catch up with your family,” he continued as Katie took a slow careful hold of the glass, trying not to let it shake as she sipped at the metal straw in it. It washed away some of the ache in her throat, the dry rasp on her tongue. “But before I go, I’d like to give you a quick check over, see how you’re healing up. It won’t take more than a few minutes. Do you think you feel up for that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie looked down at her arms and legs, put her hand on her side, feeling the dressings and wincing. Then she looks at her dad, unsure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just to check them over sweetheart,” he said. “They had to take you into cryosurgery for a little while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cryosurgery? Right, the doctor had told her about that already, hadn't he? “What kind?” she asked. Had she really been that bad that she needed it? She didn’t feel like she had that many burns. Most of them had been on her back, and they had sort of healed. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t she keep anything straight? Show sure someone had just told her about this but she couldn’t really remember. Matt stiffened; she felt the change of tension in his arm, and her mother looked like she was going to be sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The confusion probably showed because her dad was the one who cleared his throat a little, seeming stiffer than before, like he was angry, even though his voice was calm and soft as he explained to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Sendak locked you up in the cellar,” her dad said, voice a bit shaky. “He poured komar fluid over you. You remember that it’s corrosive, right?” That sounded familiar, and Katie faintly remembered the slosh and splash of liquid pouring over her ears, the itch on her skin. “It’s slow, and there wasn’t much, but your skin was burned where it touched you,” he explained. “Dr Gorma used cryosurgery to accelerate a couple of skin grafts he started from your body tissue,” he explained. “After they were applied, you were in a cryochamber for a few days to help them start healing over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that what the burning sensation had been? The itchiness? The Komar fluid? Katie looked torn at her arms and legs again, looking at all the patches of bandages and dressings. They looked bigger on a second look, especially the patch on her side, and there was another like it on one of her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to make sure the grafts are still healing and your body hasn’t rejected them,” Dr Gorma said. “Then I’ll let you get some rest. I promise to come back when you’re ready to show you the fluid bags being changed too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie bit her lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want any drugs…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No drugs,” the doctor promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at her parents again, checking that they didn’t seem worried. Gauging their reactions was probably more trustworthy than her own was right now. “Okay,” she said finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr Gorma got her to lie down again, and while she kept her hand locked around her mum’s the whole time, it wasn’t bad. He just had a look under the dressings and bandages, reapplying a few, and he did a few other checks too. Like the blood pressure he’d mentioned. A few others he warned her about first before she agreed to them, then he was done,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one last check Katie,” he said, after putting her right wrist down. “This wrist is healing well, the cryopod really helped it along,” he said, voice sounding sincerely genial. “Can I check your left wrist for a moment too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie hesitated, then nodded, watching as he lifted her arm up to check one of the bandages on her clean, otherwise bare forearm. Her mother let out a gasp, like she was crying as he checked beneath the bandage at the angry red skin, welts in ring around her wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was kind of horrible to look at so she couldn't really blame her mum for her horrified reaction; she was a horticultural biologist, not a doctor, and she hated stuff like medical dramas. Having seen the state of her skin for so long, it didn’t really bother her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he’d replaced the bandage, Dr Gorma said a polite goodbye, and left the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he left Katie felt exhausted. She kind of wanted a moment of quiet, wash her face or something, but she didn't think she had the energy to walk the short floor distance. It looked like miles, and she was attached to far more tubes than she liked (including what felt like and was probably a catheter). It was more a case of need than want though, after that… she really wanted to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shivering a little—it felt cold where the doctor had applied a little cream on some of the burns and sores, a coolant disinfectant her mother had persuaded her to let him use—she sat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Matt?” She asked, her brother’s attention snapping back to her from his phone, where he’d been quickly tapping out a message. “Could you pass me that?” She looked towards the bright dressing gown, and he handed it to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt a bit better after pulling it on loose. Next, she had to tackle the floor. It wasn’t that far, so she would probably be okay. She was conscious of her parents and brother watching her though, and she didn’t really want them to see her fall on her own feet. Maybe she’d better not risk it? She looked back at Matt again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you help me up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got to his feet, holding his arms out for her to grab onto, and she took hold of his forearms. Taking a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, and as Matt steeled his arms in place, she slowly slid off the edge of the bed. It was a good thing she’d decided not to try walking by herself, because her legs nearly crumpled with her own weight as soon as she was off the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt was a blessing from fate, immediately putting one arm around her waist. Not touching her side, but so she could lean on that arm and hold onto the other. “Easy, baby steps,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baby. Romelle. Was she here? She hadn’t seen her yet. Was she still pregnant? Had she had the baby already? Katie couldn’t remember how far along she had been. Her belly had been huge so she must have been close in that video Sendak made her watch, but how close?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we headed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded towards the bathroom. “Just to wash my face,” she mumbled at his confused expression, and with the extra support she made some shaky steps across the floor. Matt opened the door and helped her sit down on the toilet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need me to stay?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned for a moment trying to work out what he meant then shook her head. “No, just… don't close the door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt nodded. “I won’t, I’ll wait outside okay? Give me a shout when you're done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Knock on the door when you’re done.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched the door as he left. He closed it behind him, but there was a doorstop that he put in place before the door could slot into the frame that kept the door ajar a little. Breathing a little easier, she looked around. No cupboards, and the lights were tiny LEDs. No cameras in them unless they were microscopic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was probably just being paranoid but even if this was a hospital, she didn’t want to risk it. Looking down at the dressings on her wrists, tuning them over in her examinations; her right one was a bit sensitive when she touched the support dressing around it but nowhere near as sore as it had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her left, had a few dressings further up her arm, and the ones around her wrist itself, but her gaze fell on the bare skin, where her words had been printed in neat scrawl horizontally against her wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They really were gone. Five years of her life, those words had been at the centre of it, dictating the thoughts of everyone around her, and now they were gone. She wondered what had happened to the guy who’d spoken them. The police guy. She couldn’t remember his name, but Matt might know. She’d ask. She was too tired to think much about it any more</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After staring at it, and some of the other squares of gauze dotted on her arms for a while, she finished up and moved to wash her hands. Looking in the mirror Katie nearly fell over from the sight within it, grabbing hold of the sink ledge so she did not fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image of herself reflected back at her was not someone she recognised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes looked hollow. Her skin was paler than it had ever been, and it was easy to tell that she had lost weight. Her face was usually a little pudgier, her cheekbones not so easy to make out. Her hair was a knotty, short, scrappy mess and while someone had obviously tried to make it better, there were still patches that had been singed together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a ring of scars and bruises on her neck, cuts and a few small scabs on her face. Bruises that were still healing, almost gone but looking the worse for it, were pelted in blotches in purple-yellow staining across her nose and eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her own reflection knocked the breath out of her. She hadn't thought she looked that bad. She had thought she just felt better than she looked, now she wasn't so sure. Absently she sat down by the bath, knocking on the door like always to let Matt know she was ready to come out, trying to process the face she had seen in the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that really her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn't look or feel anything like herself, and her shock and confusion was bubbling when Matt poked his head around the door, and crouched down beside her where she was leaning against the side of the bath/shower combo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at him. “I look…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt gave her a smile. “Yeah, you don't look great, but the doctors will get you fixed up. Don't worry about it,” he said. “How come you're sitting on the floor?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie frowned. Wasn't it obvious? “I have to,” she reminded him. “I can't leave the bathroom unless I sit on the floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to realise what she was talking about, because recognition flickered across his face, and after he bit his lip, Matt sat down beside her. “You want to go back to bed?” he asked carefully, tone quiet. “You look tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, she didn't. She didn't. She was tired and exhausted and wanted to sleep, but she didn't want to wake up and find out she'd just been dreaming, that this was all a figment of her imagination, her own mind trying to delude her before she burned up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scared, Katie shook her head. “You’ll all go,” she reasoned. “I like this. I don’t… what if I wake up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d be screaming and writhing in agony for the last short moments of her life. That’s what Sendak had told her would happen, hadn’t he? The detonator would go off, igniting the flammables he’d covered her in, and she’d be burned alive if she didn’t suffocate on the smoke and fumes first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt was listening to her and he bit his lip for a moment. “Pidge,” he said softly. “You aren’t going to wake up back there,” he told her. “You don't have to sit on the floor either, the door’s open, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked and looked back at the door, the crack of light from the hospital room bleeding through the gap. It was open, just like he said, kept a sliver ajar by the doorstop. “Oh…” she mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still watching her but she didn't really know what he wanted her to say or do. Matt was chewing on his lip. “Come on, you don’t have to sleep if you're scared you’ll wake up, but I bet it’d be comfier for you there than here on the floor?” he tried instead, holding out a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was right, and after thinking about it, Katie nodded, taking the outstretched palm and letting Matt help her back to her feet, out of the bathroom, back to the bed. She didn't want to go back to sleep, so she left the dressing gown on instead of letting her mum pull the sheets up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The velvety fleece material was warm against her skin. Matt had been right about lying down though. She did feel better on the bed rather than on the floor. The pillows were comfortable, and the gathered softness around her felt warm. “Is Romelle here?” she wondered. “Did she have the baby yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt grinned, sitting down on the side of the bed once she was comfortable. “She’s been checking on a friend of hers who was at the… house, too,” he said. “But she’s on her way back up, and not yet, she still has a couple of weeks left,” he said. “Now that you're back she’s going to go crazy showing everyone the pictures from the scans. She didn't want to show them to anyone until you could see them too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie smiled a little, closing her eyes, trying to picture her sister-in-law waving sonogram pictures around. Romelle wasn’t the most patient of beings, so if she’d been waiting to show off her mini-me till her third trimester, she’d be going crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she here?” she mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s here honey,” her mother said. She could smell her perfume again, and her hands were warm, fidgeting with the neck of her dressing gown. “Matt can call her, let her know you want to see her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie nodded. “Don't go anywhere,” she pleaded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won’t go anywhere sweetheart,” her mother promised. “Are you warm enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, and someone pulled something over her feet up to her waist, and she felt warmer still. It was nice. Sleep crept up on her, but she wanted to see Romelle first, so Katie shifted, trying to keep herself awake. Maybe she shouldn't have laid down, but she was weary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just talking was tiring but she tried, asking her parents questions about her friends. Shiro was apparently outside, watching the door with one of the police escorts, but she couldn't see them from the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while she went quiet, and her eyes strayed back to her left wrist. “Matt?” she croaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it sis?” he asked. “Thirsty again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie shook her head. “My… He pulled me out…” she mumbled. “...I don’t remember what his name was… He pulled me out…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt knelt down on the floor so he could look her in the eye, resting his arms on the side of the bed. “You want to know who pulled you out of the fire?” he checked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded against the pillow, and she watched as Matt turned his gaze to her wrist. “Is that who told you? That you were safe?” he asked gently, taking her hand. “The guy that pulled you out of the fire?” Katie nodded once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt didn’t say anything, but for a moment he smiled, his shoulders dropping tension and his whole body relaxed right down to the fingers wound into her own. “You’re sure? It wasn’t someone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded again. “It was just him…” she mumbled. Was Romelle here yet? She was getting tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he reached his other hand up and ruffled it through her hair, gently so as not to disturb any of the dressings on her neck or face. “His name’s Keith,” he smiled, voice quiet. “Your throat sounds sore. Want some water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, and her mother passed him down the glass from before, putting one of the straws in. As she was sipping, the door opened. Looking up at the clack of heels on the floor, a familiar head of blonde hair rushed towards, her dad following and closing the door behind him but for the tiny crack given by the doorstop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle was crying, and her belly was bigger than it had been before. Her hair was a mess too, but she looked slick and stylish as she always did as she put her arms around her. “I missed you so much,” she sobbed, and Katie fumbled her arms to wrap them around her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll miss you too,” she said. “Don't let Matt call your baby Yasuo, or Akira, okay? KBP names are weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle faltered. “Of course, I won't,” she said, looking at someone beside her. Her dad</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... she’s just confused. Tired. Scared she’s dreaming us all up. Dr Gorma said most of it is probably from the cryopod.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?” Katie asked her. She was starting to feel exhausted. Maybe she was already going. Maybe the detonator had already gone off, and all this was just a fantasy to make it easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise I won't,” Romelle assured her. “I’ll be right here when you wake up Katie,” she said. “Then I'll tell you the names we picked out, so you have to wake up again to hear them, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie smiled and nodded. With Romelle’s promise lingering in the corners of her mind where paranoia had been before, the glimpses of her brother and parents beside her as she closed her eyes, the warmth began to swallow her, and this time, she welcomed it.</span>
</p><hr/><p>I forgot I had this chapter sitting in stockpile waiting, and since it has been over a month since I updated anything...</p><p>
  <em>*posts and runs*</em>
</p><p>Hope you enjoyed the chapter &lt;3</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. In The Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lying in bed, with nothing to do but watch the news streams, daytime entertainment (the content of which wasn’t even close to its name), or try to kill his boredom with eBooks when he wasn't tripping out on morphine, was—in Keith’s humble opinion—infuriating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan had even gone so far as to restrict his access to the case files on his datapad, so he couldn’t even look at them on that. He’d read through a few fantasy novels in desperation before reverting to crime novels and a few more eBooks on some famous murders and unsolved soulbond crime cases just to keep his mind working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best part of his day were the video calls with his mum and Thace so that he could talk to his dog (who was definitely sulking about not being able to find him), and beg them numerous times to sneak Kosmo in as an assistance dog during their visits before he ended up going to sleep without the usual lump of fur sitting by his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle had visited a few times, and so had Matt (he had a feeling Mr Holt had been by once just after his morphine had been changed but he was also certain there had been a weblum slithering on the floor at the time, so he didn’t remember that visit too clearly). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His newest friendly acquaintance hadn’t said much, they just joked and talked, to break up the dull monotony of the hospital ceiling and terrible media entertainment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt had told him that Katie had woken up, that she was getting a bit clearer headed. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do… Do you want me to pass a message onto her at all?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he asked, which had startled Keith a little; he hadn’t been expecting that at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Katie’s asked about you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he explained, guessing his unease. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don't know how much she remembers, but she remembers enough to know that you’re... She’s been asking if you’re okay. You’re… you’re her soulmate Keith, and you saved her life. If you want to pass a message on, you don’t have to ask us. You can go up and see her if they’ll let you out of bed.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith thought about it. He really did. Who wouldn’t? He’d been wondering for years who his soulmate was. Been told so many things about them based on his handwriting preferences, based on his words, and now that he’d finally met her, why wouldn’t he want to talk to Katie?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer was in all the things that he had known and feared, and now knew had been rightly concerned upon; for years, he’d done everything he could, everything he could think of to prove that he wasn’t going to be the cause of his soulmate saying his words, that he wasn’t going to be the reason for them to need to say something like the words he’d been given.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie had suffered anyway. Just so they could meet, so she could say his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>‘<em>Please don’t hurt me!</em>’</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d screamed them, in a terrified voice that choked through his memory and told him all his effort, his hope that his words weren’t literal, were for naught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been tortured, kept away from her family for weeks on end, isolated, manipulated, and<em>— </em>in the inclusion of the media, and Sendak’s publicising of her words for his own ideological agenda<em>— </em>violated in a horrible way. She had suffered everything he hoped would never happen, just for the sake of those four words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, whatever his admiration for her strength of character, whatever common ground they might have in a shared love of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kill-Bot Phantasm: ReLOADED!!</span>
  </em>
  <span> he couldn’t bring himself to involve himself in any part of her recovery, what she had left of a normal life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not right now… I think it would be better for us both in the long run to wait. The investigation is still ongoing too, and you can bet a hundred credits it’s going to make things more complicated than they ought to be,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Keith admitted finally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>But… she wants to know about you, Keith. I know it’s not going to be easy, but don’t you… after everything…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Matt had floundered, unsure of how to convince him</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t mind what you tell her if she asks,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he relented</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>And I’m glad she’s woken up, that she’s… that she’s started her recovery, but… I’m sorry Matt,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he’d apologised, seeing the disheartened expression on Matt’s face. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>If I try and talk to her… it might not be what she really needs, not right now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>If you change your mind, tell me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Matt had asked, still hopeful. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Or Romelle?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I can do that,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Kith had nodded, with the silent knowledge that this wouldn’t be something he would change his mind on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Matt had been disappointed then he didn’t say anything to him. He simply listened, and nodded, albeit reluctantly, and with a sigh, promised to pass on the words Keith had reasoned to him. Then, after some more chatter and conversation, he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle had visited the day after, and while Keith had a feeling Matt had told her about their conversation, she didn’t ask. Romelle knew him better, and probably wasn’t surprised that Keith couldn’t bring himself to face Katie after everything his words had, in his perception of them, put her through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She told him about her though. She told him she’d started eating a little more, that she was staying awake longer, that she had even managed to speak to Kolivan and Regris for a little while. The doctors were pleased with how persistent she was in something so simple (and so complicated) as her recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith couldn’t help wondering why they were surprised; she had always been like that, throughout her time as a hostage. She had never stopped trying to escape or fight or resist coercion in some way or another. He couldn't really make many judgements about her based on what he’d learned about her in the case—and he didn’t want to—but persistence had been one of her main characteristics, something that had pulled her through. He really didn't understand why that surprised anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he kept those thoughts to himself; they were another reason he worried about facing her in person. By taking this case, and making himself involved with details of her life, her family, and other intimate details any normal person wouldn’t possibly know about their soulmate, it didn’t give them an even footing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normal people didn’t even know their soulmate’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span> unless they grew up together, like his parents had. Sometimes people even passed each other by without noticing, and never saw each other again. Unfortunately, fate hadn’t declared either of them normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Katie wanted to talk to him, it had to be of her own volition, when no-one could doubt or claim she wasn’t in sound mind to make that choice. Approaching her now, when she was possibly more vulnerable than she had been with Sendak, wasn’t right. He could not, and would not put that pressure on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he did, not only was it likely he could be a detriment to her recovery, but it would justify everything Sendak had claimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another day passed after Romelle’s visit, and it had been a calm one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke up, ate some food, and was enjoying a little of the clarity that came with a shortened dosage of Painkillers. His mother was going to come by later, in what was going to be her first real, substantive visit since he’d arrived in the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew she and Thace had visited a few times, but the hallucinations of painkillers and lethargy for the first few days had made those a little blurry, and he was looking forward to talking to her without the haze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith was making notes on his datapad on his personal account from what he remembered of the night of the rescue to transfer later (just because he still didn’t have access to his work account, didn’t mean he didn’t know his paperwork requirements by rote, and that Kolivan could stop him from working on them without the main forms), when one of the nurses came to change his drip. As the man was leaving, having attached the new bag to his IV and taken the empty one for disposal, Antok knocked on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t tell me you’re writing up your report already,” he pleaded, sitting down. “You aren’t even out of the hospital yet. Have you even called your parents?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound like Kolivan,” Keith grunted, gingerly sitting himself up after putting down his data pad. “And they’re already here. Mum’s coming to visit later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might not have registered the visits, but he knew that there would be some blunt conversations later, because he had seen his messages; a photo and statement informing him that his mother and Thace were onboard one of the tiny eight-person passenger planes that connected Fort Garritt to the rest of the world via Ryginarth airport, with the comment: ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kolivan told me you might need a hand getting home</span>
  </em>
  <span>; </span>
  <em>
    <span>I presume that means you were being vague when you said—</span>
  </em>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be careful Mum’—?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has a point; you should at least let your swelling go down a bit more before you start trying to fill the paperwork,” Antok said. “Aren’t you still on painkillers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They just changed the morphine bag,” Keith shrugged. “Doctor said he’d give me a try off of them tomorrow and see what happens. If it’s okay I can get out of here. How are the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re fine, none of them got beaten up by a terrorist twice their size,” Antok chuckled. “Zethrid is working on the paperwork. Just hurry up and recover; she won't say it, but i think she misses you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith chuckled, before getting bored of the small talk and deciding to dive into what he really wanted to know head first. “Have you had any headway with the rest of the cultists?” he asked, unable to contain himself. “Did you find any of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few arrests were made in Naczella itself and we managed to catch Lahn before he made it to the main gridway; the off-grid car was caught in the fire and he was using a standard hovercar, so he was fairly easy to track,” Antok sighed. “You really don’t care about anything else, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stared at him, confused. “I’m bored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't you have any hobbies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t play on my VR for six weeks, and the new KBP game isn’t out yet, so no,” Keith said tapping his head. “Severe concussion, remember?” he pointed out. “And I dare you to keep yourself entertained with hospital and daytime streaming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm surprised you do,” Antok muttered. “I might be able to break your boredom for a while though; I wanted to ask you something about the rescue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith perked up. “Please,” he begged. “Ask me anything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> me anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antok laughed. “I think I know why Kolivan restricted your datapad access now,” he said. “What made you pick Naczella?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith paused, guarded. It occurred to him that there was still the matter of the leak to deal with, and Antok’s wording was deliberately pointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was small,” he said finally, after some careful consideration of his words. “It wasn't a target. Had no reason to be flashy; that's what made the attack back home stand out so much when Trugg blew up Sal’s,” he reasoned. “Small, hard to reach by gridway, easier to fly or go off grid, nothing all that special about it, except one guy who did some stupid stuff in his twenties and was trying to make amends for it,” he sighed. “But now it’s known for being the first in the attacks claimed by the cult,” he continued. “If Sendak had succeeded in Naczella, after putting Katie’s words out to the world? It would have been a lot more than just her grave, and it would never have been forgotten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antok smiled. “That and it wasn't from the NCD’s list?” he asked. “I double checked all the information we went over those few days after the prototype drop; Naczella wasn’t on the list from Commissioner Mozak, it was from the list that came from your own sources.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith closed his eyes, wondering if he was about to be smothered by a pillow. He hoped not, not when his mother was literally flying out to Marchanda this morning. She’d already landed at Reiphod and was waiting for the main connection flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” Keith said. “Does it matter where it was from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not anymore,” Antok shook his head. “But my superiors were curious. Mozak is as suspicious as you are, and he was nervous when he found out you were basing your judgement off an unidentified source.” he explained. “The results changed his mind; we realised you’d made the same connections we have, why you sent me to Lyrah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith opened his eyes and gave the man a level stare. “Antok,” he started, tone pointed. “I’m on morphine and in ten more minutes, I’m not going to be of reasonable mind for any conversation you do or do not want to have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antok laughed<em>— </em>it didn’t sound mirthless or intimidating, but that didn’t mean anything. Keith didn’t want to suspect Antok<em>— </em>he really didn’t think he was involved in the leak of information itself. They already had evidence it predated his assistance on the case. But they couldn’t trust his information network, so Keith had to act as if he assumed Antok himself was suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I was trying not to jump right into it,” he said awkwardly. “I did come to check up on you too, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Antok…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antok sighed getting to his feet. “You sound like them too,” he mumbled, closing the door before he pulled out his phone. “My superior wants to talk to you,” he said, tapping at the screen before handing him the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith eyed it, then put it to his ear. It rang a few times, before it connected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>DCI Hawkins?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ a quiet voice asked, striking in familiarity to another one Keith had heard recently, but not at the office; amid dire and frantic haste, when everything had been secondary to everything but making sure the woman in another part of this very hospital survived the chaos surrounding her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Macidus,” Keith greeted, trying not to clench his teeth; he still wasn’t pleased with the way the NCD’s agent had been intervening. He could have pulled Katie out of there how many times over? Keith didn’t dare to count. “I’m surprised you want to talk to me; I can’t imagine Antok’s spared you my opinions on your communication methods.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t, I assure you. He was very certain that if you knew I wanted to talk with you, you’d refuse point blank, hence his terrible subtlety,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Macidus paused. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Antok really isn’t suited for field work. He’s a much better contact point and back up responder.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you call?” Keith asked pointedly. “Antok was right. I’d much rather be boring myself stupid on the hospital streaming service than talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because the investigation isn’t over, DCI Hawkins,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Macidus. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>The case for your soulmate’s rescue is over—</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith felt himself choking. “You know that already?” he demanded. “The meet hasn’t even been registered yet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘<em>—</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought it was obvious, but I suppose you had no way to see it yourself. Most people don’t see the circumstances building until they’re gone. I didn’t either really, not until the timers started, but it's besides the point,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Macidus continued, redirecting the conversation from Keith’s shock. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your job was, as you pointed out most emphatically to Superintendent Rolstron after the failed raid, to rescue Miss Holt; Antok and I have been pursuing cult hierarchy and their infiltration of the NCD for several years now. Through Miss Holt’s abduction, I was recruited from lower ranks of the Cult by Sendak, and thereby brought amongst the edges of the figures behind it. You’ve already seen one of them on the footage from Port Thayserix.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith felt his blood stop. “The woman.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Indeed. We believe she is responsible for the security network behind which the cult hides its shell companies, funding and digital data, even the VPN that gave Antok and Regris so much trouble. Everything that could potentially expose its leadership, its operations,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Macidus said. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>So far, we don’t even know what her name is, but she came out directly to control the security on Sendak’s video calls with Mr Holt, and he immediately deferred to her; whatever the cult wanted those prototype designs for, it was very, very important DCI Hawkins.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We thought the same, but we couldn’t fit the weapon operation to any particular target. It was hard enough just to figure out half of our data was compromised,” Keith mumbled. “I get it. You have a different job to do, I still reserve the right to dislike your methods, strongly, and that predates any soulbond involvement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m aware, and I do regret not making any roads to helping directly sooner, but surely you know now that Antok wasn’t just assisting your investigation as he was working on his own?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Macidus asked, and Keith felt a little of his resolve to hate the man on principle crumbling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Your words were on a list, DCI Hawkins; I did not intervene directly for the same reasons you did not tell Antok, that you did not allow him to follow you to Naczella, after you had determined it to be a reliable location,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ He pointed out. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You didn’t want the leak to know, and alert Sendak a second time, as he did when Miss Holt slipped information through of her first location; likewise, I could not trust that you were not connected to the weak link in the NCD and FCD security.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That… Keith hated admitting it, but that was reasonable. He’d passed it off, and managed to forget that Antok was really NCD, but of course he would have been investigating Keith and his team. He flopped back onto his pillows, and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About that weak link…” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Antok believes you know who it is already; I was hoping you’d be willing to put your dislike of my methods and handling of this case aside and share your knowledge.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith closed his eyes, thinking, trying to decide if he trusted the tall, angular faced, white haired man who had interrupted Sendak before he could drop him into the pit of a burning cellar. After all this time, this was his first real contact, conversation with the man, and he had no idea if Macidus hadn’t been compromised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your name,” he said finally. “You’re asking me to share information that could cripple the police, FCD and NCD,” he reasoned. “If you can’t trust me with your identity, then why should I trust you with any secure information? For all I know you could still be compromised.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doubted it, but Keith still refused to hand anything over to the man scott-free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Macidus chuckled. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>My Name is Ulaz Vosloo,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he said with calm and without hesitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stiffened as he breathed in, then forced out a breath; he was starting to feel a little hazy and relaxed, most likely from the morphine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brodar,” he said after a little more deliberation. “All our false data passed through him. The information from Mozak that was sent directly was fine, but everything that came through Brodar was off, or out, or incorrect in some way or another, and he was the one who tried to contact the FCD for the VPN, but nothing ever came of it; Bogh identified his work to the same time frame as an agent he knew to be working within the NCD monitoring police activity around the cult. His real name might be Haxus Downes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bogh?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Antok blinked. “Did you say Bogh? He’s in </span>
  <em>
    <span>custody</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Since when? How the hell did you hide that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magic,” Keith grinned, waving his hands as if sparks were going to pop out of his fingertips; that response was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> morphine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>...he really turned himself in then.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Ulaz sighed, a few moments later, presumably hearing Antok blurting out his shock. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I knew he had doubts, but I wasn’t sure if they were enough to remove his lingering loyalties to Sendak</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s thanks to him that we found her at all,” Keith said. “Is that everything? I think the morphine is hitting me now, and my mother’s going to be here in a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost, I promise, I’ll give you time to prepare for what I presume is going to be a storm of concern and affection,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Ulaz promised. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I wanted to explain something else about the woman, Haggar, that I believe you will be interested in knowing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haggar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the name of her portable rig; she was quite snappish when Lahn tried to touch it as Miss Holt was picked up from the take-away in Port Thayserix, and until she’s identified, it’ll do as well as any other name,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he explained. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holt spoke to Kolivan and Regris the day before yesterday—which I’m sure you know from your colleagues and Miss Holt’s family already— and she revealed that she had direct contact with Haggar</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not on camera,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Ulaz said. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I only know from her testimony that Kolivan forwarded to Mozak. I didn’t believe she had seen her beyond her presence in Naczella, but apparently Haggar acted as one of her... attendants after Lahn acted rather unceremoniously in that role. I believe her cooperation was still valued. Regardless, Miss Holt presumably spoke to and interacted with her. I don't think I need to imply the seriousness of what that means.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. No he did not. It meant in very simple terms that Katie was a key witness to someone whose identity within the cult was guarded so fiercely that even most of its own members didn’t know it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It meant she’d seen her hair colour, the shape of her nose, heard her voice, knew how tall she might be, what shade her eyes were, if she was Terran, Drule, Altean, or Drazanese; it meant that Katie could identify her, and that made her a living security risk. It meant she was still a target. It meant that despite what Keith had promised her<em>— </em></span>
</p><p>
  
  <b>‘<em>You’re safe now.</em>’</b>
</p><p>
  <span><em>— </em>she wasn’t safe at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like to keep in contact as my investigation goes forward, I know Mozak tried to recruit you while you were in training, and I think he was right to do so. He’s already asked Kolivan to put the idea to you after the investigation. I don’t believe your soul bonded status with Miss Holt had any direct effect on your thought process and deductive reasoning––you still have a better record than some NCD agents in dealing with cult terrorism from past incidents––and I’d like your assistance.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Ulaz continued, and Keith sank into the pillows closing his eyes again, predicting what was coming already. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your recovery will off course take precedent, but once complete, should you wish to take up the offer, Commissioner Mozak will be waiting for your call.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he finished. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I hope you have a speedy recovery DCI Hawkins.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to swallow the protest, but no matter what he thought, Keith already knew he didn’t need to call Mozak back in however many weeks’ time it would be before he could walk properly again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s promised Katie she would be safe. His words had already put her through all this, and he’d promised her she was safe. He couldn’t ignore this if he wanted to. He couldn’t protect her from where his words had taken her, but he could keep that three-word promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Ulaz confirmed, pausing. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Commissioner Mozak will be in touch after your recovery. Until next time.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call clicked off, and after staring at it, Keith silently handed the phone back to Antok, his mind churning and writhing as the decision he had just made settled in the aftermath of a conversation, and revelations, he wasn’t sure he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antok was equally quiet as he took the phone, sliding it back into his pocket, watching him, concerned. “Want me to leave you to get some rest?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Keith nodded, closing his eyes, his thoughts a million miles from eBooks and his data pad. “I think I’m going to need it,” he added. “Before my mother gets here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antok put a hand on his shoulder. Then he got to his feet, and slipped from the room, the door closing gently behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence and calm were Keith’s companions to a blustered mind as he tried to let the haze of medicine take his thoughts from the news he had just been given, and the choice he had made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kolivan’s going to kill me,” he mumbled to himself before sleep finally drifted into his eyes.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>His mother was sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed when Keith woke up again a few hours later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krolia Hawkins looked a little tired, and she’d brought one of Thace’s homemade quilts with her to cover her shoulders, but smiled over the top of her datapad, taking off her glasses, pushing them on top of her head, over the thin strands of grey starting to peek through her bright hair dyes as she set it aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey honey,” she greeted. “You got all your marbles rolling today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seventy five percent,” he mumbled. “Hi Mum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Mum, he says,” she sighed, setting aside the datapad. “What am I supposed to do with you kiddo? You look like you got hit by one of the Caylum Landers,” she said. “I know I told you to take care of yourself—what happened to that, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an emergency?” Keith groaned, starting to pull himself up, and rubbing at his eyes, slumping against the hug she offered. “How long have you been here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About two hours,” she said, pulling the back of the pillows to arrange them better for him. “The traffic was hideous; it’s a circus out there. Kolivan came to pick me up directly and it still took an hour to get through it all. You’ve been busy, it appears.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say that,” Keith chuckled. “How’s Thace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine,” She smiled.  “He’s walking Kosmo. So?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? I’ve seen bits in the news and Romelle mentioned a fire, then Kolivan said you were fighting someone…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stiffened. “...both?” He said, feeling like a scolded child again at the abhorrent expression in her face. “Katie was in a cellar and the building was on fire but we got out before it blew up, only Sendak was hovering around so…” Keith gestured to his battered bones. “...this is the result of that attempt at heroism,” he shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you have a fractured leg and bruised ribs,” his mother said, sounding exhausted already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a fractured jaw,” he added. “And a concussion but I think that’s mostly gone now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well thank goodness for that,” His mother snorted. “Fate was blessing you when Kolivan called me, you know? You’re as bad as your father was!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith started; he hadn’t been compared to his <em>dad</em> for years. “Dad?” he asked. “How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll love your old man till the day I die,” His mother said frankly, flopping back into the chair with her quilt. “But he ran headfirst back into that fire knowing for a fact that he wouldn’t make it out Keith; I am not one bit surprised you tried to fight a terrorist in hand to hand combat, or ran headfirst into a room triggered to blow up to save that woman,” she said, smoothing the creases out from over her knees. “You’re exactly like him, always have been, like two damned peas in a pod.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled fondly, and Keith sunk into his pillows. “Is that a good thing? Or am I still in trouble?” he asked, squinting at his drip bag; it looked full again. Had the nurse been back with more morphine?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you bet your hide you’re in trouble,” she grinned. “But I’m proud of you all the same honey, Thace too,” she added. “Actually, everyone back home is. Hunk and Shae wanted to put your picture from your DCI exam party up next to your dad’s on the memorial wall at the restaurant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talked them out of it,” His mother said. “I think it was mostly Nadia’s idea, but… I didn’t think that was one of her better ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith let out a breath of relief, his hand going to his right wrist. “Definitely not” he mumbled, cringing at the thought. Just the thought of it was making him wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How bad was it?” She asked. “I know you can’t tell me details, or anything sensitive, but we’ve been worried,” she said. “After the storm, we didn’t really hear from you much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith let out a breath. “I know, I’m sorry mum,” he apologised. “Things just… well, they started getting dicey after that. Sendak was moving around, there was more pressure on Sam, we had no leads…” Keith closed his eyes, trying not to remember all the stress. “…it was just a mess. The whole case. Naczella was even worse, because Sendak altered the time on the countdown before he started the stream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother had a grim face as she nodded. “I saw that,” she murmured. “It was on the local news stream; that woman, she kicked the camera off the table to show the investigators.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith blinked. “She did?” He asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t seen it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was searching through any old house I could find,” Keith shrugged. “I didn’t watch any of it happening. There wasn’t the time, and it feels... wrong, to look it up outside of the case notes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll say,” she huffed. “I thought I was going to be sick when those photos of her words were posted in the video. I couldn't look at them...” She paused. “Will she be alright? Eventually?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie? I…” Keith paused, trying to work out what he could and couldn’t say, what he ought to say. “…I can’t really say, I guess; I’m not a doctor. Probably. I… I hope so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help thinking about Ulaz, and what he had told him. He wondered if Kolivan had warned her family about it, the fact that Katie wasn’t just a victim, but would still be in danger as a cult target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were a jerked mess, and it must have shown on his face, because his mother’s expression changed, perhaps realising it was a delicate subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long before they discharge you?” She asked. “Thace was thinking you could head back with us until you’re ready to go back to work. Kolivan said you needed a break—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith closed his eyes, already anticipating the argument. “I’m already booked to release later this week; I just have to come back for check-ups on my leg, but I’m not taking a break just yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother was staring at him, at first confused. “Kolivan said he’d put you on leave already Keith,” she frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured, but I’m not going back to the station,” Keith sighed. “I can’t tell you much. Let’s just say Katie’s case is ongoing and I’m going to be working on that with the NCD. I’m not sure what I can tell you besides that. It’s all restricted information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith!” His mother looked shocked. “You’ve got bruised ribs a fractured leg and a concussion—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a concussion anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—don’t get smart; you're nowhere near ready to work in a condition like this!” She protested. “I don’t care who asks! I thought you hated the NCD? They recruited you before and you turned them down, didn’t you? Why can’t they get someone else to do it? You’ve done enough already! You saved that woman, Sendak was caught, along with the bodyguard. Why Can’t you just let the NCD do the rest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith took a breath, pulling at the covers; this was one of the reasons he didn’t want to be involved with the NCD. The secrecy involved just wasn’t really in his line of preferred working conditions. It was hard enough with police cases as it was. “Circumstances changed is all,” he said. “It’ll be fine mum. I’m not going to be diving into burning buildings this time. I’m in no hurry to repeat that again,” he paused. “As for why, let’s just say our priorities matched up this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother shook her head. “I still don’t understand,” she said. “What could possibly make you change your mind about working with them when you’ve passed up every other chance they offered you?” she asked, and Keith felt himself stiffen at the question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew. She knew there was something besides work relations and tying of loose ends and practicality. She could probably smell the ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to talk about it</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ radiating off him, and as much as he didn’t want to think about the reasons, her questions were pointing him towards the subject. One she knew she would instantly disagree with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith please, surely there’s something you can tell me?” She pleaded. “I can tell there's something bothering you about it, you haven’t looked me in the eye once since you started talking about this. Why is this so important to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith glanced at his mother, then sighed, and held out his right arm, displaying the bare skin, vanished words that had been spoken and received, plain as day, in the middle of the Talwarshire moors. “Because I owe her that much,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother stared at him, before sitting up and moving onto the edge of the bed, putting her arms around him for a moment.  For a moment, Keith didn’t move, then he slumped into the embrace, letting all the anger and bitterness on how unfair and twisted the situation of his soulmeet was, the wistful hope that it could have been a joke or something else completely opposite to what his words had suggested that he’d held out for completely shattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen her?” his mother asked, voice gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shook his head. “I don't think it’s a good idea until the case and court hearings are over,” he said. His mother’s face twisted with a reluctant understanding. “And I don't think seeing me would do her any good. It needs to be when she’s ready, if she ever is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lines around his mother’s eyes deepened a little for a moment as she tried to find a way to protest, and finally sighed. Leaning over, she kissed his forehead. “I wish it had been different for you,” she said. “You don't deserve this, neither does she, but I’m proud of you Keith; there’s a lot of people in the world who wouldn’t think what you just told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Keith offered her a reluctant smile. “It’s why this happened in the first place. It’s where the cult came from, it’s the reason Katie’s going to have to live with what my words put her through for the rest of her life; I can’t ignore that, however much I want to. That’s why I’m going to help them with the rest of the investigation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother’s eyes narrowed, her expression flattening with her instantaneous, and expected, disagreement. “Keith, you can’t think like that,” she urged. “This isn’t your<em>— </em>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is,” he said, pulling away. “She screamed those words at me mum, I heard them. She went through hell, just so she could say them,” he said, blunt and clenched as he tried not to let his conflicted feelings over the matter come through. “I-I told her she was safe,” he said quietly, taking his arm back. “After everything she’s gone through, I need to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it. I owe her that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heavy silence, weighed by unspoken disagreement and words he’s heard time and time before, and always tried to believe, but no longer could, had swallowed the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you feel responsible, that you owe this woman some kind of apology, but you don’t; you didn’t decide what was going to happen to her, or how it happened,” his mother tried again. “You can’t take down the entire cult by yourself Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith looked at her again, wanting to just agree. He didn’t really want to force himself to follow this anymore. He almost felt like he could stop now, and be happy with what he’d accomplished. He could switch to the trafficking squads, or the drugs squad, or just mix it up with his cases. He hadn’t taken on any murder cases for years, but with one thought he stopped himself short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory of a grey-haired woman, talking to Sendak in Port Thayserix, glimpsed once only. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can try,” he said. “I promised Katie she was safe; I want to be able to look her in the eye if she ever wants to talk. If I don’t try, I’ll never be able to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother let out a long sigh, rubbing her forehead before pulling him into her arms again. “You really are exactly like your father,” she sighed. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, whatever it is you’re so set on doing, I don’t want to visit you in hospital again because of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith smiled, a little, the reassurance bolstering. He knew he couldn’t say anything about what would happen<em>—</em>he didn’t even know what he would be doing yet<em>—</em>but it was still good to know his mum was supportive, even when she hated the limited idea he could give her of his future plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing how much secrecy and care and frustration was likely to be ahead in the search for a nameless woman who would be an access point to the entire cult, Keith was almost certain he was going to need it.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>What, you thought I'd let this be easy? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>^^</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Happy New Year ~&lt;3 <strike>(if you don't use Gregorian calendar, have a good day, and happy new year in advance)</strike></span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. If It Ain't Broken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next time Katie woke up, things were clearer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realising she wasn't in fact dreaming or hallucinating was as much of a relief as it had been just waking previous afternoon, and once she was done crying over the fact that her family was right there with her, that they weren’t made up, that she wasn't going to die, that she didn't have to worry about what was going to happen one minute from the next anymore, she tried harder to stay awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t manage much more than a couple of hours, and for the next couple of days, it felt like a repetition of the same day over and over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She woke up, freaked out for a few moments, realised she was safe, realised her parents and brother were the ones with her, relaxed, had something to drink, then fell asleep again. Sometimes Dr Gorma came in, sometimes a nurse tried to coax her into eating something solid, but she couldn’t always manage it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, four days after first waking up, she was able to wake up and remember where she was without the fog of hallucination hanging over her head, and actually managed to have a conversation with her family. After eating some toast—and a bit of peanut butter, Fate's Mercies, she hadn’t realised how much she had missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>peanut butter</span>
  </em>
  <span>—she still ended up falling asleep again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day after, she managed to wake up without the uncertainty from before, ate a little breakfast, and managed a shower before needing to lie down again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t feel like much, especially on her shaky legs which struggled to hold her up without leaning her mother’s arm or when she had to rely on the fold-down seat in the shower itself, and she exhausted herself getting in and out towards the end, but it was blissful progress</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie knew it was. She was out of bed for the first time in days. She just had to pace herself, and the doctor and nurses had been pleased to see her moving around. That had to be good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst part had been getting a couple of dressings replaced, and how tired she had been afterwards—she’d slept for three hours straight—but it had felt so good to be properly clean that she was looking forward to the next one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still couldn’t help worrying about cameras, but managed to tell herself that this was a hospital, and she wouldn’t be watched like that unless she was in a high dependency or maybe a psychiatric ward, or otherwise completely incapable of assisting herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mum helped too, going as far as to get a chair and stand on it to unscrew the lamp cover to show her the bulb inside, and show her there were no cameras when her initial worry about it started making her doubt, change her mind about it, and the effort was enough to reassure her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair had been washed by a nurse at some point, and she must have been given a clean up by the people who removed the Komar from her skin when she was in the decontamination unit, but it felt good to scrub shampoo and conditioner through her hair, inhale the smell of the shower gel her mum had brought in for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still dried off and redressed (in a set of soft chartreuse silk-satin pyjamas printed with hummingbirds that Romelle had packed and brought in for her) behind the curtain. She couldn't bring herself to chance it that much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After pulling her dressing gown back on and her two-hour nap after the adventure to the shower, she was sitting on top of the bed covers, sipping at the can of fizzy juniberry juice with a straw when there was a knock on the door, and her mother stepped out of the room, leaving Romelle with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad and brother had already left during her shower, to go and work on some media control at the company, and in regard to her (something that Katie was still trying not to think about too much yet), so she, her mum, and Romelle had been the only people present when the afternoon lunch menu came around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie had decided not to chance it, and went for the tomato soup, even though Dr Gorma had told her that she could have solid food if she wanted; it was still a fresh, non-microwaved meal. It might not have been her mum or dad’s cooking, but it smelled amazing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn't managed all of it, but the nurse had still seemed pleased when she came to pick up the plates. If it had been something more complicated, or at least requiring something more complicated than a spoon, she might have struggled. She was shaky enough with the can of pop as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you bring your pictures?” she asked Romelle between sips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her sister-in-law—now free from self-imposed secrecy—had decided to reveal the baby’s gender as soon as she got the chance to grab the scans and download the high res videos onto her datapad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! I did, I figured you’d want to see them today,” Romelle beamed, reaching down from the end of the bed when she had sat down after her run out to one of the nearby cafés for something more decadent and indulgent than chocolate biscuits the nurse had left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle had found a chain doughnut bakery and grabbed a bag of peanut butter-chocolate ones. They had been munched on for the past hour or so, mostly by her mother and Romelle (her mother sharing her love of peanut butter, and Romelle because she was craving it). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had managed a couple of bites, and the rest were in a preserving container, but it was the thought that mattered, and the few bites she’d had the appetite for had been delicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't wait to find out, then we can </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> pick the nursery paint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie stopped sipping at the straw, pulling it in surprise from her lips. “You don't know?” she asked. “I thought you were just hiding it from everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At first, I didn’t want to know,” Romelle sighed. “The doctors weren't certain I'd manage to carry them to term, so I thought if there was a big chance I'd lose them it might be easier if I didn't know,” she explained. “We were going to. At the party, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was kidnapped by a psychopathic arson terrorist?” Katie snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle gave a weak smile. “I was going to say ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>plans changed</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, but I suppose that works too,” she said, settling at the end of the bed again once she’d reclaimed a brown envelope from her handbag. “Alright, let’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Romelle could slip the photos out of her envelope, the door hinges creaked, and Katie jolted her attention towards it, settling as she watched her mother stepping back inside the room, looking a little pale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colleen?” Romelle asked. “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed, close beside her. “Fine,” she promised, taking a breath; she looked shaky, nervous as she put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s the Superintendent, and Sergeant Keaton sweetheart,” she explained. “They came by to check up on Keith—” the name of her soulmate perked Katie’s interest for a moment “—and they were wondering if…” Her mother took a breath again. “…they—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They want to talk to me,” Katie guessed, gripping lightly at her mother’s hand when she reached out to her. “They want to do interviews. While I can still remember things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother nodded. “I called your father outside, and he said the decision should be up to you and the doctor, and the Superintendent agrees; as long as Dr Gorma allows it, and only as long as it’s something you feel comfortable doing, so if you don’t want to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…I don't have to,” Katie mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really ought to have expected it. The investigation was probably still ongoing, and they would want to formally charge Sendak. They would want to speak with her as soon as possible; she understood that, but did she really want to talk about it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was having trouble just staying awake, and the past few days had been bliss, hearing everything she’d missed from her mum’s work stories in real time, cracking some wheezed weak laughs at her brother’s dumb jokes, falling asleep tucked up beside her dad, his arm on her shoulders, trying to keep her nightmares away, helping Romelle order baby clothes online. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so far away from everything she had become accustomed to as new normal. She didn’t want it to end. She wasn’t ready to break that spell of peace just yet, but Katie also didn’t want to hold things up. She wanted her life to go back to normal, and until the investigation and charges and trial were over, it wouldn’t. It would go on and on and on, and she didn’t want that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting her lip, she considered it, carefully. She’d seen the Superintendent before. Her mother mentioned somebody called Keaton, but that sounded like a surname and she didn’t recognise it well. She’d heard or seen it, but it wasn’t one of the names she’d heard mention of between her parents when they didn’t think she was listening to their doorway conversations about the media interest (something else she didn’t want to think about).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother also mentioned Keith and Katie couldn’t really deny she was curious about her soulmate. Besides the one time Matt had told her his name, and Romelle confirming a few other things when her parents were out of the room—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s a DCI, he has a dog is called Kosmo who might be able to teleport, he’s from a tiny deep desert place in south Yendailian, an off-grid driver, and a huge KBP nerd</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—she hadn’t had much chance to find out anything on what had happened to him after she had been taken to the air ambulance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I can try some questions?” She said finally. “For a bit? Just simple ones? As long as Dr Gorma says it’s okay.” Katie half hoped he wouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother nodded, squeezing her hand and heading out of the room again, presumably to go talk to the police and Dr Gorma. Romelle awkwardly got to her feet, like nothing monumental had been decided, setting the envelope back down in her bag, and Katie was grateful for the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while her mother came back in with the doctor, and they talked for a while before he finally said that as long as she stayed calm, and didn’t venture to any conversations that might trigger a panic attack, or go further than she wanted to discuss, then if she wanted to speak with the police, she could, but for no longer than an hour at the absolute maximum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Normally, we’d prefer to wait until you could have a consultation with a psychological consultant, but Mr Holt wanted to leave that decision with you, rather than make you feel pressured,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he’d explained. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve been a consultant for people who became victims of high profile crimes, like yourself Katie, so I know the Superintendent fairly well, and he knows what not to ask and how to avoid things you may not want to talk about yet. As long as you’re happy to do so, and you don’t go overboard or tire yourself out, I think it’ll be alright for you to try talking with him, if you want to do that.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been given a chance to change her mind, but ultimately, she agreed again, and the doctor left the room to speak to the police again. Her mother had taken her other hand loosely, offering it if she needed it, but her fingers were loose, and easy to pull away from if she wanted as Dr Gorma returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With him was the long haired older man from the video, and another man who was slim but for his broad shoulders. Katie tensed as they stepped inside, and felt her mother’s arm on her shoulder, gentle, reassuring, and she relaxed; she wasn’t in danger. She was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Miss Holt,” the older man greeted, calmly holding a hand out to shake. “My name is Kolivan Rolstron, I’m the superintendent for Central Marchanda Constabulary, and this is Sergeant Regris Keaton, one of our digital analysts,” he introduced before sitting down in the two extra chairs that had been pulled up for them to sit on. “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to speak with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie’s fine,” she said watching as they settled. Kolivan was wearing a smart suit and shirt, but Regris looked much more relaxed in his jeans and bomber jacket. Both of them had their badges hanging around their necks, and had hospital visitor passes too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan nodded. “Before we start, I’d like to tell you that if at any point during the conversation you want to stop, or just don’t want to answer something, that’s perfectly fine; I realise this is a lot to ask of you when you’ve only just started coming around from cryosurgery, and given the subject matter,” he explained. “If you have any questions of your own, we’ll do our best to answer those too, but again, this goes at your pace, not ours. If you feel tired, let us know and we’ll let you have some peace and quiet again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie made sure she had processed all the words before nodding; Romelle was watching them both like a waiting guard dog who would pounce if she needed, too, even if Kolivan was her superior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let you know if I want to stop,” she repeated, confirming she had understood. “Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan seemed satisfied, and he pulled out a datapad. “Is it alright to record this?” he asked. “Just for a vocal record, no cameras.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie eyed the datapad for a moment then nodded. It was for police evidence, she reminded herself. They need copies of the back-up copies for this sort of thing. Kolivan kept it in front of her, and started up a recording app. It looked like a note-taking thing too, because she could see his voice turning to type on the screen as he introduced himself again, asked her name, age, date of birth and such.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the questions started. Some of them were simple, others not; how often had she been in contact with any of the cultists? (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just when he wanted something, or when he called Dad; it was mostly just Bogh I talked to, sometimes Macidus.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’) How much she had seen of the bases? (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I saw the room I was in at the first one, and the car park, and a lot of the second one, but not the rest beyond where they kept me. Except for the calls.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’) How often had she been given food and water? (‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bogh fed me, and they always made me drink something if they came in to check, but after Bogh went off somewhere for him, they just tried to give me stuff between doses. I felt sick a lot after he left.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went into a little detail on a few of the others, some of which she didn't want to talk about, like what Bogh had been like, how he’d treated her in the day to day. His mannerisms around her, what he’d spoken to her about. She wasn't sure she was ready to even think about him yet. Her dad had told her he was in custody, which explained why he’d disappeared all of a sudden but that was it, and for now she wanted to keep it that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too hard to think about; she still didn't understand him, how he could have lied for so long so easily, or how he could say he didn't mean her unnecessary harm after abducting her and doing everything Sendak told him, knowing he was planning to kill her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They also asked her to explain how she had worked out her escape attempt, and seen Teludav Tower, which was easier to talk about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie went into as much detail as she could, explaining how she worked out that there weren't any cameras in the second base, that Bogh had just been keeping track of her with a baby monitor and routine checks from him and a few of the other cultists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She told them about the screw she’d been carrying around with her, how she’d been able to use it when they changed how her hands had been tied after Bogh had burned her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan asked her what had happened after the escape attempt, but that was when everything started going further and further downhill, and she didn't want to talk about that either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle and her mum were there with her, which helped, but it also made it harder; she didn't want her mum to hear what had happened to her. It was bad enough that her dad had seen so much. She didn't want them to know about it all. Eventually she knew they would, but not yet. She couldn't face that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan made good on his word though, and whenever she asked to skip something, he agreed, moving onto another question. He never pushed her to try, didn't insist, or try to coax anything out of her. He just moved on from whatever subject of discussion she’d rather avoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...one other question that we have to ask Katie,” Kolivan said. “I’m sorry for the bluntness, but were you ever subjected to sexual assault or abuse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question was a surprise, catching her response off guard. She hadn't been expecting it at all, and for a while, it stunned her. Then Katie realised her silence was starting to look like an agreement, and it was rightly alarming her mum and Romelle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this why they had wanted to talk to her today? When it was just them? It might have been harder to ask in front of her dad and brother, or harder for her to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said quickly. “There was a moment when Lahn freaked me out,” she admitted, pulling her dressing gown around a little more closed. “They wanted me to wash up, and Bogh wasn't there so Lahn was supposed to be feeding me and stuff. They wanted a photo,” she explained.  “It was after I tried to run, so they were watching me more. When he came in, he sort-of force-fed me the water, then he untied me a bit, but he didn't take the blindfold off me…” she took a breath, and her mother moved her arm as she shifted, the scent of her perfume calming, a reminder that just because she could practically see it all and feel it all happening again, it wasn’t. That she was safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were scared he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> do something,” Kolivan said simply; Katie nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just told me I had to clean up,” she said, firmly, trying to keep herself calm, ward off the memory of unseen phantom touches and aggression. “Then he turned me onto my front and started cutting my jumper off. I couldn't see anything so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shivered, and her mother kissed her forehead, pulling the blankets up over her knees as she tried to calm her beating breath. A few gentle words and she settled but the reminder put an echo in the back of her mind, and Katie couldn’t help feeling a little more unsettled from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he didn't?” the sergeant checked</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “Sendak, he threw him out because I was screaming,” she said, laughing weakly. “He said they weren’t into that, and that Lahn was stupid. He got that creepy old lady to stay in the room with me instead…”  She wasn't sure if she wanted to keep talking about it, actually. Maybe if she closed it off he’d stop asking questions. “…and after that he drugged me again. Next time I woke up, it was Macidus who was hovering around. He was a bit easier to deal with, but I missed Bogh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt tired, exhausted, and kind of wanted to sleep again.  Her mum was close too, which helped. She couldn’t be faked or made up from delusion. She was back in a normal reality now, and no one around her now was going to try and hurt her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old woman?” the sergeant checked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie frowned, then nodded. “I didn’t see her much, but she was around from… just before Bogh left?” she guessed. “She was at the last place too,” she blinked, trying to remember where it had been. “Naczella?” she asked, looking at Romelle, who nodded. “She was there, and Sendak checked everything with her, to make sure she was agreeing. He listened to her. Never talked back to her or anything. I think she was there when I tried to run too, but I can’t remember where.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside the Superintendent, the sergeant was flicking through something on datapad. “Katie, if I show you some pictures of some suspects, could you point them out any that you recognise for me?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn't sound too difficult, or long, so Katie nodded. He handed the datapad and showed her how to mark off all of the people she’d seen, and how to flick through the images on the software. For a while she sat with Romelle and her mother, flicking through the pictures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one point Dr Gorma came in, but she assured him she was okay to finish off, and he didn't protest as she went back to the searches. Eventually she shook her head and handed the datapad back to him. “She didn't look like any of those people, and I didn't see any other women or people besides Bogh, Macidus, Lahn and Sendak</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was her manner like?” Kolivan asked. “Did you hear her name at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Nobody used it. I heard…” she faltered—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s a liability Bogh,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—as dim memories of an exchange before a hazed induced sleep scared in her mind. “S-she said…” the more she thought about it now, the more she realised how much the words really had scared her, and she gripped her mother’s arm where it rested on her shoulder. “…the sooner they lit me up the better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie felt herself shaking, and bit her lip as her mother murmured reassurances to her, letting her curl up as close as she could get, her warmth and reassuring fragrance constant, reminding her that she was just talking. That it was over. It helped, but she could feel herself tensing up, shrinking back from the memory and the current conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kolivan,” Romelle warned. “I know this is important but can't this wait a while?” she demanded. “Katie’s already exhausted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan gave Romelle a look, but he did seem apologetic as he turned back towards her. “I know this has been hard for you to talk about Katie, and I appreciate it,” he said sincerely. “You've been incredibly brave through this ordeal, and I can't imagine how hard it's been. Talking about it is probably even harder. If there’s anything else you feel you can tell me about his woman, it would be helpful, but if you want, you can stop now, and we can come back at a later date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie slumped, closing her eyes with relief. “I think I want to sleep,” she mumbled. “Can we stop?” she asked, curling a little closer to her mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt a bit sick, and felt like she was shivering even though she wasn't cold. Memories were poking at her mind, and she wanted to block them out, not keep thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that might be best,” Dr Gorma agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Kolivan nodded, getting to his feet. “Thank you for all your help Katie,” he said sincerely, before turning and looking to her mother. “We’ll keep in touch with you and Katie about the criminal court proceedings as they advance to formal charges,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Kolivan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Katie called out, before she lost the nerve from the conversation and gave out to the stress of memory. He and his subordinate stopped before the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Miss Holt?” Kolivan asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said I could ask questions,” she reminded herself. “I have one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded at her, encouraging, and she took a breath. “Is… What happened to Keith? Is he okay?” she asked. “That was him, right? The guy with the big dog? Matt said it was him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn't sure what else to ask, and she wasn't even sure that the Superintendent knew he was her soulmate, but she had to know. She didn't know if it was going to complicate the investigation follow ups. It probably would. but she remembered glimpses, and no-one had mentioned him much. Just what Romelle and Matt had told her, and that he was in the hospital too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie knew he’d been hurt. She remembered seeing Sendak slam his head against the ground, stomp on his leg, kick him in the stomach… She didn’t think it would be so bad if she wanted to know the person who’d saved her life was okay though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith?” the sergeant blinked. “He’s… He’s okay?” he said a little unsure as he met the Superintendent’s equally surprised gaze. “Mending. Nothing life threatening.  Couple of fractures, some bruised ribs. He woke up a few days ago? Uh…” he paused, then looked towards Romelle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can catch up with him for you,” she promised. “After you've rested though,” she said her tone more pointed, but mostly directed towards her co-workers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie sighed with relief, then nodded in agreement, leaning against her mother’s shoulder as the two men said their goodbyes a second time, and were escorted from the room by Dr Gorma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The calm and quiet in the room returned little by little, the tension decompressing from her after the unreasonably tiring explanations. As it lifted it felt like a stopper had been pulled and everything was flooding back in, and she was scared to move in case she found she couldn’t, that her freedom had been taken away from her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing her eyes and curling in on herself a little, she tried to block out the suffocating fear, breathing slowly, thinking about her as yet un-introduced soulmate, before she panicked. She could already feel it crawling on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knowledge that Keith had not received any permanent damage, at least, was good. She wasn’t sure how she felt knowing he'd received them helping her, and keeping Sendak away from her. They sounded like horrible injuries, worse than her own even, but if he was awake already, then that was probably good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey?” Her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Honey, it’s okay,” she repeated, and Katie turned into the warm embrace wrapping around her, focusing on it, trying to will away the ghost sensations of foreign hands on her skin. “It's okay, you’re okay, you’re safe, it’s not happening anymore,” her mother repeated, and Katie felt fingers wiping tears from her eyes, soft and gentle as she leaned into the comfort. “Those… </span>
  <em>
    <span>degenerates</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t going to hurt you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie wasn’t sure how long she sniffed and sobbed; she felt like a child all over again, clinging to her mum after a bad nightmare, but it felt cathartic. She mumbled on and off, talking and not talking about random things that popped into her head, and it took a while, but eventually familiar faces soon took over from the lingering memories and touches that made the difference between a nightmare and real memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle scooted up beside them when she had calmed down, head starting to hurt, but otherwise reassured, and as she showed her and her mother the pictures, opened up the videos on her datapad, she began to drift back to the good afternoon they’d been having.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She yawned, and knew she would probably end up sleeping soon, but the distraction was what she needed until exhaustion caught up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the less than pleasant twist, she felt like it had been a good day; she’d made progress, and surely even talking about what had happened—even if it was just facts she could state to the police, without much depth—was a good thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie still had questions (hundreds it felt like, and not just about Keith), and knew there were numerous things she didn’t think she wanted to talk about yet, and some she might not want to talk about at all, but it felt like a small step in the right direction.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The next week and a half blended into a seamless flow of time that was almost indistinguishable from one day to another, but for one fact; Katie could see the date. Every. Single. Day. Her loss of perceived cohesion, the myriad of unending changeless days, was over, and she could orientate herself again, all thanks to her brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the first things Matt had brought her, aside from carrying the bag of pyjamas and loose clothes (that wouldn’t hinder her shaky legs or aggravate her healing skin) Romelle had packed for her up to her hospital room, was a new phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could check it, along with the time, every morning, and with the once simple, routine act of checking her phone when she woke up, slowly, some linearity returned to her life. It was exactly the same brand as her own, just in a shiny new box with some better specs, and a kind-reading get-well-soon note from the network provider’s CEO.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yours was torched in the fire at Voltedge,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Matt explained. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I phoned up the company you were with and once they realised I was phoning on your behalf, the CEO took the call. They’ve transferred your old number, and whatever data you didn’t have stored at home directly to this one. Just promise me you won’t look at any social media yet.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie found that request very easy to go along with, and had spent an afternoon getting everything set up on it. It hadn’t taken long, and if it weren't for the sleek black standard casing instead of the shock guard case printed with multiple holiday photographs that she was used to, it almost could have been the same phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost, but not quite; just like the case, the dates it showed and reassured her with each morning were obvious and jarring. It showed the 29th</span>
  <span> September. The last certain date she could remember was the 5</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> of July. August had become nothing but a blur of drugs, locked rooms, fear, and desperation for her own life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found it hard enough to get her head around the fact that she had a seventy-nine day gap in her own existence, including her spell of an induced sleep for cryosurgery here in the hospital, so ignoring social media and the news was easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her parents had warned her, Romelle too, that her words had been exposed on the stream Sendak had set up when he set up the bomb; they had been on a live camera, and people were still talking about them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The media attention was something she had somewhat been aware of at the time, but hadn’t really noticed or taken part in during her capture. It had been there as part of Sendak’s theatre, but it had never hit her until then. A few times he’d made her take part in it, but the enormity of it hadn't really been something she had any comprehension of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew it was a bit crazy but had been able to ignore it. It had been easy to follow Matt's advice, and avoid downloading any of her social media accounts, but she’d seen a notification from a built-in news app. Some kind of unhealthy curiosity had made her tap onto it, and she’d been taken to an article dissecting Sendak’s stream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By some miracle she hadn’t looked further than the first pictures, which had been bad enough; they were the photos Sendak had taken of her words, when he’d broken her right wrist and realised she’d had left handed words instead. The photos were plain as day, her arm pinned to the floor boards, words in full focus, her face blurring out, screaming, movement blurring the picture as she’d tried to thrash Sendak’s hand off her jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly she tried to grasp it, the idea that the photo had been shown during the stream, for the whole world to see; It made her feel sick. The only reassurance she might be able to have from it was that she knew her words hadn’t disappeared to the wrong person; Romelle had told her Keith hadn’t been able to watch the stream at the time the pictures were posted, but now that moment, that privacy, and the intimacy of them, had been doubly ripped away from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t really surprised; Sendak had to have been planning something when he and that old lady took the photos of them, but learning about how involved the media attention was, and really knowing how far Sendak had gone, had ruined what had until then been a good day of peace and quiet. She’d curled up and gone back to sleep, trying to forget about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she woke up, she’d rapidly deleted all the apps built into the handset, and instead of just storing her college apps, contacts, emails, photos, and the glut of messages from friends she was too scared to open (the little green ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>2137</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ collection pile note on the top right corner of the app spoke volumes of how long she had been cut off from the world), the main thing she used it was to not only piece together what she had missed, but keep track of what the doctors were giving her using the health software and calendars</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr Gorma had been genuine in his promise to come back and show her the drip she was on when she first woke up; he’d returned with not only her drips, but several unopened medicines he wanted her to think about taking, including painkillers, explaining them, opening them in front of her, telling her what was in them, how it the different ingredients would affect her, and why he wanted her to think about taking them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through that, he covered the broader topic of her recovery, and all she had to recover from; that firstly came in the details he gave her on the side effects of the high dosages of Kwintanol Quadratic Acid (the drug ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Q</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ which Sendak had been using to keep her sedate and unconscious) she had been forcibly given.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Firstly, loss of muscle tone; aside from being inactive for over seventy days, a fifth of the entire year, the drug had contributed to a loss of tone that had resulted in her weakened muscles. It would be easily regained by exercise with a physiotherapist, who came by the day after the Superintendent’s visit to get her started and see where her movement and strength was currently levelling, or more obviously, struggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then weight loss; one of the drug’s side popularities, apart from in crime, was in dieting. Between the diet of calories over vitamins, the drug, and her own reluctance for food the nauseating side effect had usually prompted upon coming around, she’d lost weight. Not a dangerous amount, by itself, but significantly more than she or Dr Gorma were happy with. So, he was giving her liquids that would give her back some of the nutritional enrichment she’d missed, hence the extra vitamin drips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides that he mentioned short term memory loss which she already knew about. Whole chunks of memory were missing within the time disparity around her; it was part of what made her sudden jolt back to reality so disorientating. He told her she might eventually remember things, but probably wouldn’t get much back if she did. Her main concern had been permanent side effects, but so far, she hadn’t any problems with her memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did express some concerns about potential sleeping problems; so far her sleep schedule had been varied. Sometimes at night, often during the day, and while part of that was just her feeling terrible still, trying not to feel sick as she ate a little more solid food, or just tired from the physio, or from having a shower, he did warn her that the  prolonged exposure to the drug might give her problems for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there were her surface and physical injuries; the welts on her arms and knees and ankles where the ropes had been pulled were healing well enough. Just a couple of scabs now really. Dr Gorma was confident those wouldn’t scar. Her broken wrist was healing too, and she had been given some mid-level painkillers that he’d let her check.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The komar burns were a little deeper, but also healing well, but were less likely to heal without a mark in their wake. They were treated quickly though, so he maintained a hope that they wouldn’t be too severe. The ones that he couldn’t do much for were the cigarette burns, and her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In regards to the burns, most of those were already near healed. Four little circles on the nape of her neck, seven on her back, and however many Sendak had twisted behind her ear, down the side of her neck. Dr Gorma told her he could give her some creams to help soften and soothe the warped skin, lessen the obviousness of the marks, but didn’t recommend the option of surgery, nor did he recommend it just yet for her eyes either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Komar fluid had been corrosive, hence the extent of her burns and injuries, but while her skin was healing, and the cryopods and paramedics had healed most of the damage, some scans and her own headaches from trying to look at things—like the labels—had revealed that her eyes had also been damaged when Sendak poured the fluid all over her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had spent another day in a cryopd in the Ophthalmology, and already had a prescription for a pair of glasses. It was just for reading, and she’d have to get another check up later to refine it a little more, but knowing she would need them was bad enough, and hard to get used to. She could get the surgery if she wanted to later, but Dr Gorma wasn’t keen for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reasons became clear with the last, and more troubling stage of all the recovery steps lined up in front of her; psychological support, he called it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cryopod had already had some effect in that, using previous and normal scans from her annual health checks to track changes that had occurred in her neurological activity, in particular the changes that had been spotted by the chamber in her prefrontal and anterior cingulate cortices, and amygdala; they were, Dr Gorma explained, all the processors that dealt with fear, emotion and conscious thought, and the ones affected by PTSD.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cryopod had some ways of introducing familiar sounds and scents during the healing process that helped with grounding trauma victims before they woke up, reworking the interrupted or broken neurological connections and associations—apparently, the smell of her mum’s perfume had been one of the ones it had replicated for her—but it was still a machine, and the human brain was far more complex than anything man made could ever be. It couldn’t fix everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted her to think about talking to a therapist who had a specialisation in crime related trauma, and Katie knew she ought to. She still woke up in the night screaming or crying until her mum or dad, or Matt—whoever was spending the night at the hospital with her—could break her out of whatever sensation had returned to her skin, until the feeling of being choked passed, and she just calmed down from the panic and fear her nightmares brought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still felt trapped, but she didn’t want to talk to a stranger. Or to her family. She didn’t want to relive everything again, or make </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> relive it. She hadn’t even tried to think about what her family had gone through, but there had to have been stress and tension and hurt for them through all this too. Her dad and Matt in particular were on edge around each other, and the last thing she wanted to do was put more stress on them after what they must have felt through all this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On top of that, she just felt scared, like she wouldn’t see them again if she let them out of her sight. Katie knew it was all in her own head, but she couldn’t shake that feeling away completely, even when she relaxed, calmed, reminded herself through the soothing assurance of the self-same people that she was safe, that nothing she had been through would happen again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father wasn’t going to disappear the way she worried when he left to check a call from the company, or give the press an update. Her mother would return from her trips home to feed Baebae. Romelle would get back from her appointment with her obstetrician, somewhere in the same hospital, in minutes. Matt would come back from his own turn taking on the media too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only person she hadn’t seen in the time that passed was her soulmate. She had asked Romelle and Matt about Keith. Even her parents, but aside from the pieces she had been told, she hadn’t seen him since she had been pulled out from the cellar and beyond the wall of the burning theatre. She didn’t know if he had asked Matt about her or not, but he hadn’t visited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt had assured her that he was okay—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>his concussion is gone, and his mum and her partner were there when Romelle went to check in last night,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—but when she asked anything about going to see him, Matt tensed a little, nervous as he explained the man’s well wishes and reluctance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, when he told her Keith hadn’t wanted to see her, that he was concerned for the effects it would have on the investigation, she was relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t ready for that either. Meeting Keith properly, seeing him in person again, it would be like admitting to herself that her words had been everything her parents feared, because she’d got her ray of sunshine in the end. Her words had saved her, but had they also by circumstances placed in her life because of them, put her in the position to need them in the first place?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know, and that scared her too. Lots of things did, so she could understand why Dr Gorma wanted her to think about seeing a specialist. But she couldn’t face it. Not yet. She’d get there. Katie knew she would; she’d get bored, or frustrated with herself, and she was sure that she could leave it for a while before she had to face actual reality again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day her grandparents made their way over with the help of the police to get through the hustling crowds of press completely unsuited for a frail elderly couple, she changed her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been looking forward to them coming all week. Her mum had got them onto a video call for her once, but... that had turned out to be a bad idea once it was over. She didn’t think she’d be able to make another video call again for a while. So, instead, her grandparents were braving the chaos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her grandfather had been wheeled in on his chair by an auxiliary who helped them get in through one of the back entrances, where they wouldn’t have been noticed as much. He wasn’t much stronger than she felt, but he’d hauled himself out of his chair, a couple of tears behind his glasses and pulled her into the tightest hug he could manage. About the only bad joke he made was that he didn’t recognise her with her new haircut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her grandma came in too and that had been much the same—Katie normally caught the scent of tobacco on her, but it wasn’t there; just a little smell of clean, old lady flower-scented soap, much to her relief. Then her grandma’s handbag fell off the end of the bed where she’d placed it, and scattered its contents (including a personalised cigarette lighter) across the floor of the hospital room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie’s eyes had only seen the silver, top clicked opened from the fall, and… she felt ashamed of herself for the reaction that followed. It was just her grandmother’s lighter, but it felt like her skin was burning and searing all over again. She could hear—click, click, click—that snapping, flicking sound in her ears, feel dim flame sizzling against her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been hysterical, crying and screaming in fright so much that she had sent herself into another panic attack Her grandad tried with her mother to calm her as everyone else scrambled to find what it was that had set her off. His wife, meanwhile, had identified the culprit of the fright, and without even blinking emptied the fluid contents down the sink in the bathroom, then dropped it into a bin. Then she’d taken the bin out to the hall, and Katie had watched her ask another auxiliary to dispose of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t need something that scares you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ she declared. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re more important. I’m just sorry I didn’t think to get rid of it sooner. I stopped when… I stopped weeks ago.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mum had told her that. In one of the calls Sendak hosted, and Katie wasn’t angry or scared of her grandmother. Her reaction had scared them though, especially her grandfather. Despite his ability to soothe her, pull her out of the fear clogging her rationale, he had been shaking a little when they said goodbye, promising to come back, and be there when she got home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they had left, her dad promised he would phone the old man’s doctor, if her grandmother hadn’t already found a member of the hospital staff to check him over. Told her not to worry, get some rest, that nothing was her fault.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had made her realise how deeply she had been conditioned though, how Sendak had put so much fear into her that he really had rewired the neutrons in her brain to the point that she couldn’t look at anything as simple as a lighter without screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad?” She asked, later the same evening, when her mum, Matt and Romelle had gone down to get sandwiches, and give her some quiet to try and get some sleep from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it honey?” He asked, sitting up, putting his datapad down as she started her sleepy request. “Want some more water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “What Dr Gorma was talking about, a few days ago…” she ventured. “Could… could you talk to him about that specialist he mentioned?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t intentionally waited till everyone else was out of the room, but her dad had seen all of the calls, maybe more when she hadn’t been awake. He knew better what had happened, and it just felt easier to ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d taken her hand and squeezed it. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to push yourself for something like that if you’re not ready,” he said. “Grandma and Grandad aren’t mad at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” she sighed, closing her eyes and gripping his hand. “I do. And I’m scared to, but the sooner I do, the sooner I can fix myself from whatever... rewiring he did,” she reasoned. “I can get back to being myself, not…” she struggled for words for a moment. “...I thought seeing my reflection was bad enough, but this isn’t me dad. I feel like…I don’t know who or what I feel like anymore, but it’s not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad had looked tired and worn since all this had started, since the first call. He’d always looked sleep deprived and exhausted on the cameras. He looked like he’d aged ten years in person—the videos had hidden just how much the stress and worry for her had really been affecting him—but he looked at the same time worse and like he’d seen a sign from fate itself when he smiled, and leaned over, kissed the top of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure?” He checked. Katie considered it again, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll try to talk to him once your mum gets back,” he promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day—a Sunday, the 3</span>
  <span>rd</span>
  <span> of October, Day 90, by her newly-reliable count—her dad spent a few minutes talking to Dr Gorma after he came in for her morning check-up, and left with him for a few minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day was nothing unusual. Breakfast came around, and she had some time to herself, so her mum helped her make her way back to the shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The physio came by to see how she was doing, get her to try walking again. She was happy to see her sitting in one of the chairs instead of being in bed. She was still in her dressing gown and pyjamas, but she’d been making it from the bed to the chair more regularly during the day by then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the lunch order came around. After she’d picked out her meal for later in the afternoon, her dad arrived back from his office at the labs, and behind him was an unfamiliar face. A tall, thin man with a curled moustache, and bright orange hair, and Altean tattoos on his cheekbones; Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton-Smythe. He was a specialist, working mostly with the victims of crimes involving severe trauma or soul bond related crime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within half an hour of being introduced, she’d lost the initial edge of panic that made her reach for Matt's hand when he first came into the room. He was the sort of person who knew how to be kind in just their manner and turn of phrase. Or maybe he was just good at his job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad later told her he was a friend and colleague of Dr Gorma, who had approached him, anticipating a moment when she or her family would be looking for someone to help with her mental recovery, and find her needing more specialised help than a regular therapist or one of the hospital staff might be able to cope with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coran, who often assisted in court cases, and was willing to do so if needed, had and asked that his contact details be given on request.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He, along with so many other people, had seen the stream segments covering each day of her captivity, and had called Dr Gorma volunteering his help; Katie wasn’t sure of him at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her ability to judge people was in serious doubt after the glaring error she had made in trusting Bogh, but he didn’t really poke at any uncomfortable topics, not that she noticed. He just asked her a few questions about her hobbies, her favourite foods, her job, her pursuit of her masters, her friends, her family, and general chit chat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t dive straight in, he didn’t even prompt her to talk about anything. He just asked whatever she was willing to tell him. When he asked her how she was feeling and her reluctant response about feeling achy, he asked her what she’d had for breakfast instead. When she said pancakes, he’d gone into a story about his own preferences and his grandfather’s adult-oatmeal recipe (which was as far as she understood, boozy porridge).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t what she expected, but it was unusually pleasant. After they’d been talking, in general for a couple of hours he left, saying he didn’t want to take too much of her time before she was more comfortable. He didn’t push or probe, just asked how she was, and arranged a return visit for a few days later. It was calm, and almost entirely stress-free besides her initial worries about meeting him at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His departure was timed into her trip down to an x-ray of her wrist, to check it had been healing properly and see about her cast being changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t feel like much, when she managed to walk, with a bit of help, all the way to the x-ray department with Matt, but it still really, really felt like the start of life going back to normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could not, in Katie’s opinion, come quickly enough.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span><strong>ENTER STAGE RIGHT:</strong> *<em>CORAN, THE GORGEOUS MAN</em>*.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hope this chapter was a nice continue after the last one. We'll probably be sticking with Katie for a while. As I said before, I feel like it's only fair she's the focus of her own PTSD and trauma recovery. If you're interested in more DarkFic, my hand may or may not have slipped with a new distraction <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817394">here</a>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Yet To Meet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was another ten days before Dr Gorma pronounced Katie well enough to see-through the rest of her physical recovery at home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could walk without help again, albeit slowly, and her skin was almost fully healed. Her wrist had a little longer to go, but she knew how to take care of it, and had put on more weight than she had expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been kind of weird, because even in the hospital and seeing her reflection every day, Katie hadn’t really realised how much weight she had lost. She wasn’t even back to her regular weight from before the kidnapping yet, and the difference just getting regular meals (without the calorie consuming drugs that had been pumped into her) made had been a bit of a shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie knew she hadn’t been starving—Sendak had kept her just above the threshold of that, according to the nutritionist—but she had been withheld food in an attempt to weaken her, something that she’d hardly noticed between her bouts of unconsciousness. Her weight gain, as a result, had been a shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond that, she had been talking to Coran a little more every few days since his first visit, and he too had been keen for her to return home as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At a hundred days after the biggest trial of her life began, Katie had been in hospital for four weeks of those days. It hadn’t felt like so long, it felt like both an age and hardly any time at all, but she put that down to the relatively safe environment, and the familiar faces that came with being in the hospital. On the other hand, she felt like she could hardly remember what home felt like, and after so long thinking she might never see it again, she was eager to get back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still woke up during the night scared she’d been blinded permanently, following dreams of blow torch flames hovering over her eyes, screaming from memories of glowing cigarettes ground into her skin, or feeling like she couldn’t breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still didn't feel like she was really free when she woke up from those. She felt like Sendak still had the noose of fear wrapped around her neck, and she sometimes had to blink herself back to reality, remind herself that she wasn’t hallucinating, or drag her mind back from wherever it had wandered mid conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to concentrate, and she reacted to the most minuscule of things. Her judgement had been wrong so many times already, and she didn’t know how to believe her own eyes sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to think back to normal life, before she’d been kidnapped; Katie remembered it, but the simplicity of it all felt like a dream now. She didn’t feel like she’d existed before Bogh had slammed her into the door of her office and drugged her unconscious. It was hard to realign and remember that her life could be normal again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The investigators from the police hadn’t been back to talk to her (though apparently, they had asked and were just waiting for a day when she was prepared to talk more in depth about her experiences) and Katie didn’t know if she was disappointed about that or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost wanted to talk to them, just to get it all out of the way, get it all over with, but she knew she wasn’t ready to do that. Not when she couldn’t talk about things without giving herself a panic attack, or was still nervous just walking through the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The notoriety that came with Sendak using her for his propaganda was something Matt and her parents done their best to keep away from her, but they couldn’t hide her from it forever, and even on the floor where the more private room she had been given was situated, people looked in her direction when the physio was trying to see if she could walk the full circuit of the hallway unaided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their gazes bored into the back of her head. One or two of the doctors and nurses gave her second looks (not deliberately, and they always caught themselves), but the patients just stared and stared. It made her feel sick, and more troublingly, it made her think about Keith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could roll his name on her tongue even without speaking, picture his face––it had been seared into her mind, first in the video call, and second when she looked up, finally free to scream and breath and lash out at the dark-haired man telling her over and over ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're going to be okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re safe now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t seen him since. Which she was still glad about, but it didn’t feel fair. After all the time she had spent, wondering how she’d hear her words, she couldn’t even face her soulmate. Katie couldn’t help wondering if he wanted to when she remembered what the first words she had screamed at him had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think having ‘<em>P</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>lease don’t hurt me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ being branded on your skin most of your life was any better than ‘<em>Y</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>ou’re safe now</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. They must have been a nightmare for registering. They weren’t just ominous, they sounded dangerous and questionable as hell out of context.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps against her better judgement, she had wandered down to one of the lower floors with Shiro, after asking at the reception if she could visit. At first, the receptionist had been reluctant, but something must have been recorded about their soulbond status on the documentation, because after a second look at the computer, the desk worker had given Katie the room number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s being discharged, but he might still be there love, the doctor didn’t long finish his final check-up.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was more than Katie thought any receptionist ought to tell someone about a patient, but then she remembered she was thinking about it in relation to her soulmate. She had the same rights to Keith’s personal information as family, even though she was a complete stranger. More even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The irony of using the very process that had fuelled Sendak’s reign of terror to help her track down her soulmate did not pass her by, but Keith had said he would talk to her when she was ready. Katie still wasn’t sure if she was ready or not, but she was closer than she had been, and she wanted to try and at least introduce herself properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro hadn't been too keen, but after he’d seen Adam in the hallway again, he’d been more than willing to follow. During their trip in the lift (which had her clinging to the taller man and had definitely been a terrible, claustrophobic idea), he had re-verified the man was in fact, Shiro’s unsupportive ex-fiancé.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon finding Keith’s room, she had been relieved and disappointed to find it already empty; relieved because she didn’t have to find out if she wanted to talk to him or not, and disappointed, because as many concerns and as nervousness as she felt over the subject, he was still her soulmate, and she wanted to know what he was like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to know how he had ended up as a DCI, what had guided him to the position where their lives had intersected, if he really was as big of a KBP nerd as she was, if his dog was as big and fluffy and friendly as she remembered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she had been sat on the bed mulling it all over, wondering how his perspective of all this had happened, she had an encounter in the room with a purple haired woman, who looked surprised to see her. Katie guessed she was his mother, maybe an older sister or an aunt, since she came to pick up a couple of shirts that had been left in the bedside cupboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed as Katie made her haphazard attempt to flee the room, nearly falling over her feet, but rescued from landing on the floor by Shiro, and while she was kind enough to tell her that Keith had already been discharged the previous day, Katie got the impression she was wary of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was fair enough. If one of her relatives had a soulmate who’d been the victim of a terrorist kidnapping plot, and they showed up in their empty hospital room, she’d be leery of them too. And so, with blurted nervous apologies, she and Shiro had made their way back to her own room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle told her not to worry about it when the conversation came up, after her own release papers had been signed and set up for today but she couldn’t help but wonder, as she looked out of the window, packing her things into the medium suitcase her brother had picked up from her apartment for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have everything honey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started, looking towards her dad, then back down to her bag, realising she’d spaced out again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” she nodded, resuming her checks of everything that had been packed away, tucking a toiletries bag down the side, then piling the mostly pyjama-sets that were still left on the bed on top. “Do I need to sign anything else?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s all taken care of,” he assured her. “We’ll have to stop and pick up your prescriptions on the way out, but that’s it; Shiro dropped off one of the cars around the back. We just have to try and wait a while for it all to die down so that we can avoid the mob.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie looked out of the window again; apparently someone had leaked her date for leaving the hospital because there was a herd of press that had doubled itself in size outside the hospital from the few remaining stragglers that visited daily overnight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were being reasonably respectful of the other patients, and at least not swarming the emergency bays or patient only areas, but she still didn’t like it. There were more of them again, and her stomach churned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did they care so much? Did her words make that much of a difference? She wasn’t the first person to survive being held hostage, and in comparison to some people, she’d had a reasonably good time of it.  It had still been intolerably bad, but Katie considered herself much better off than people who’d lost limbs or fingers, or been tortured to insanity, or  killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Compared to that, arguing with Bogh had practically been a picnic, and that kind of luck wasn’t something she ought to take for granted</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would...Wouldn’t it be better for me to say something?” She asked, looking down out of the window. “Just to give them something to chew on for a while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d dealt with press for her work before, for her dad’s conferences, and she’d been interviewed when she first started at the company. Not big stuff, but she’d been involved, and for the columns one of the glossy magazines did with her mother about the house once. She really, really didn’t want to talk to them, but she could, if only to make them leave the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad sucked in a breath, looking down at them through the glass with her for a moment. “If it were any other time, I’d agree with you,” he said finally. “But I’m not being an overbearing old man when I say you’re not ready for any of it sweetheart.” He looked out of the window, and there was a gritted, uncomfortable sort of expression on his face as he watched the heaving mass of people jostling for space. “That man, the way he goaded the press into the situation… it’s more than what you’re used to, more than what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> used to,” he added, holding an arm out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned into it, getting the smell of old cologne and beard oil in her nose as a reward. A little cloying but enough to make the sensation across her shoulders stay pleasant; there had been a few times a simple touch had started her, wound her up and made her panic when she didn’t see it coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She probably ought to talk to Coran about that but she hadn’t quite got there with him yet. Half because she was scared to talk about it, and half because she was still having trouble knowing which things, that might have once been normal, might not be anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie could reasonably well assume she had PTSD, and knew that part of her recovery would be learning what those things were, rewiring herself away from the poison Sendak had implanted in her mind, or learning what she just simply couldn’t tolerate anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...if you want to say something, make a statement we can pass on, or make a post to one of your social media accounts, that might help, but I really don’t think you should. Let Matt handle it for a little while longer, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad was probably right. She just hated the idea that something might have disrupted the hospital, that so much chaos was going on because of her. It was bad enough already that people were in here still, some of them with life changing injuries, because of the bombing at Voltedge. A bombing that had been in place as a diversion so that Bogh could get her out of the building without anyone noticing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or Rolo. Katie knew he was in the hospital somewhere too. She’d almost worked up the courage to go see him, to apologise for dragging him into this twisted mess. Almost, but not quite. She was scared to face him after hearing what had happened following her temporary escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d lost his leg. How could she thank him for trying to help her when that single act had probably changed his life irreparably? Her dad said they had been giving him and his family support, so that he could get a good prosthetic, but it didn't make the fact he’d been disabled because of her go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t voice any of those thoughts, instead nodding in agreement and turning her attention back to her packing. There wasn’t much else. Her mother just had to get back with the clothes she’d promised to bring so she didn’t have to leave the hospital in her dressing gown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though how they were going to get out was another matter entirely. Dr Gorma had been talking to the staff, apparently in a fury according to one nurse, to find out who had leaked their release schedule, and the hospital chiefs were involved for the breach of patient confidentiality. So far, she didn't know if anything else had been revealed, or if anyone had been caught for the leak, but she didn’t care as much as she ought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had already been a long day, and Katie was tired and exhausted. It felt like all she’d done for the past few weeks was sleep, but she wanted to go home, so she was forcing herself not to have another nap. Once home she’d probably end up finding another set of pyjamas and crashing in her bed, but that was at home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t go outside in pyjamas, hence why her mother had gone out to find her some decent clothes that didn’t make her look like an invalid. She didn’t really want any press to catch her in a photo like that. It was one thing to be aware of her new notoriety. It was another to add to it (which was probably why her dad and brother were the ones handling all the press stuff, now that she thought about it).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sendak had made her personal hell go live for public viewing. She couldn’t face going outside and looking like she was still trying to get her own head back on straight. So, she’d asked her mum to grab her some clothes. Not a shirt and leggings—she hadn’t worn anything else besides that for weeks and weeks—but decent, nice clothes that were still comfortable and not tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they waited a few of the nurses came in to say goodbye, the ones who’d helped her get back on her feet, literally, and built her confidence back up as she got her own strength back for the simplest of things, or had woke her up at night when she started having nightmares or had a panic attack after one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of them had been cleared by Dr Gorma as innocent in the reveal, and their parting words were kind, giving her wishes of good luck. Once she had her life back together, and she was back home, she’d have to get them something for being so patient with her, so helpful, because even with her family around her, she still owed her recovery to the hospital staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually her mum came back, a clothes bag on a hanger in hand which she handed to her, and started finishing off the packing a few things that hadn’t fit into the suitcase into a reusable shopping bag instead; some of the juniberry juice and some biscuits, get well soon cards from the office staff, her university classmates and lecturers, and, one letter she still hadn’t managed to open, from Vrek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was something else she didn’t want to think about; Vrek was one of her best friends, but his dad was one of the reasons she was sitting in the hospital, and now he had to live with his father being charged with murder and terrorism and fate knew what else. Bogh had ruined both their lives in a way, and she felt ashamed for being part of it. She couldn’t bear to look at the letter just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heading into the bathroom, door ajar with the wedge at the bottom as always, she quickly changed into the plain long sleeved and hooded white jersey-fabric dress her mother had brought her, some denim brogue flats and a denim coat for going outside, before stuffing the last of her pyjamas into her case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little cold out from the rain last night so I brought you these as well,” her mother said once she was done, handing her a dusky pink cashmere knit hat and scarf she’d been wearing for the past few winters. “You might not need them but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s nice,” she said, running her fingers over the fabric of the hat, smiling to herself at the soft feel on her fingertips before putting it into her pocket. “It’ll hide my hair,” she reasoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair still hadn’t really grown in long enough to be properly trimmed, but one of the nurses had done his best to help shape it once during her stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the doorway, she could see her dad and Shiro talking quietly, an unpleasant look on both their faces, like they’d both had bad news. “What’s going on?” She asked, her stomach churning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad started, but after a moment, his expression evened out, with more calm. “We were hoping to make it out unnoticed, but someone must have recognised the car; it’s one of the private ones, but the press has been on this like hawks,” he said. “They’re round the back of the building, but it won’t be anything to worry about honey,” he insisted. “Shiro’s going to talk to the hospital security, and the police agents are talking about arranging another way out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie blinked then nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed again, wondering if she could get away with checking her phone to see what was really going on. She appreciated her family’s attempts to keep her away from the craziness that had resulted from her own abduction, but she also needed to know what was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated not knowing what was happening. That especially made her feel on edge. A few hours ticked by; they weren’t quite a waste, as it gave Dr Gorma the time for the last of her check-ups, as planned, but she hated the waiting, and the numbers of reporters outside seemed to have gone up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, when her parents were talking to Shiro, and Matt and Romelle were looking out of the window, she had a chance to download the TNNS app, and after switching it to silent, carefully scrolled over the headlines page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first one stream was one of the front of the building, an elderly female reporter in a smart dress and a coat talking under a scrolling banner with the words ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fire &amp; Rescue; Katie Holt to be Released following treatment Marchanda University Hospital 100 days after Abduction.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could click on it another stream launched, this one in a press room backed by grey wall with bright pink police logos emblazoned in lights and logos across the back, and another reporter, and Altean woman, with another banner. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Superintendent Kolivan Rolstron and DCI Keith Hawkins to answer questions surrounding the Voltedge Bombing and Katie Holt Kidnapping Investigation.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? Watching it with low volume, Katie checked her parents and brother weren’t watching before turning it up a little, and listening to the reporter explain that a press conference had just been announced. Kolivan was going to start, followed up with a Q&amp;A with ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>...CI Hawkins, the man who, in Superintendent Rolstron’s own words has been mostly leading the investigation the past few weeks. We don’t know when that will be, but we expect the conference to last a couple of hours at least, and we’ve been informed that a lot of the questions remaining to the general public will be answered, especially concerning the incident in Ryginarth, and of course, the rumours regarding Miss Holt’s soulbond—</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie snapped her phone onto silent, staring at the black screen as she locked it, trying to work out what the reporter had just said, if she had been hearing things. What did they mean soulbond rumours? Had that been leaked too? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did they know that Keith was her soulmate? She knew the soulbond record was public access, much like old census data, but she hadn’t confirmed any soul bond registry yet. She didn’t have half the ID numbers she needed with her ID and bank cards lost in the fire at Voltedge, so it couldn’t have been verified yet, not even on her behalf, outside of hospital or police records.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wishing she hadn’t decided to look, and unable to go with her curiosity unsatisfied, she looked at her parents, but they were outside, talking to the police rep. Instead she looked at her brother. “Matt?” she called out. “Tell me honestly,” she said after he had looked in her direction, giving his full intention. “Was my release date the only thing that was leaked?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned, his eyes falling to the phone in her hand. “We’re not sure,” he said without hesitation. “Until one of the staff members comes forward, we can’t be sure, but it’s something that picked up traction online so now it’s in the media,” he sighed. “...I'm sorry. we shouldn’t have hidden it from you, but it was bad enough with… with what Sendak did,” he said taking a breath for the words. “We wanted to try and give you and Keith a bit more privacy, for as long as we could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie thought about it, the explanation. She reminded herself that her family wasn’t trying to withhold information from her. They were just trying to make it easier for her to recover, to keep whatever stresses that the media were inevitably creating away from her for that little bit longer. They were just trying to help. She knew that. There was no point getting angry about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie bit her lip to keep herself from snapping ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>well next time, don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ which would undoubtedly have not done anything remotely useful. It wasn’t Matt’s fault. He was just trying to keep unwanted privacy invasion out of her life. She had no reason to be as angry or as ticked off as she felt. It wasn’t that bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps her silence was what told him her mood, or maybe the lack of a blurted response she might have exploded at him with a few weeks ago. If she had learned anything from her experiences with the cult, it was that impulsive outbursts didn’t work the way she always wanted them to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was better off thinking, reasoning than getting angry. Or upset. It wasn’t even that big of a problem. So they didn’t tell her. Not a big deal. Not a problem. It wasn’t their fault for trying to help. She shouldn’t be mad, so why did she feel like someone had tried to jerk a rug from beneath her feet again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie?” Matt said, sitting down beside her. “Hey, hey, please don’t cry,” he pleaded, his arm on her shoulders. She hadn’t realised she was crying, probably because she was just used to it, but she leaned into the arm, wiping at her eyes with the ribbed sleeve of her dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m being stupid,” she sniffed. “It’s not that big of a deal…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it upsets you then it is,” matt insisted, quietly; she realised the arm on her shoulders was also hiding her reaction from their parents who would have no doubt swooped down like protective hawks. “Come on, tell me what you’re thinking sis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It helped her get her words out. “I get it but… she took a deep breath, wiping her eyes again. “I… I can’t… I need to know what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>happening</span>
  </em>
  <span> Matt”, she said, trying to stress what she couldn’t tell him with the words. “I can’t be cut out of everything just because… I can’t be left out of the loop like that again. I really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t like it. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said, sincere and honest, pulling her close as she deflated, resting his chin on top of her head. “We should have thought about it more, told you sooner. We… we really thought it would help, just until we got home, but we won’t do it from now on,” he promised. “I’ll talk to mum and dad about it, i promise, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie nodded, her ire and hurt fading, and otherwise happy to stay close to her brother. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t cope with a lack of information. She’d always hated not knowing the full details of a project, but this wasn’t the same. She kept track of everyone in the room, constantly checked the time and date, always had her eyes on the doors and windows, and found herself eavesdropping on conversations, making sure she hadn’t missed anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the same, and that wasn’t her brother’s fault. It would have been the best idea to keep it all away from her. She remembered feeling terrible after one accidental peek at her phone the first day Matt had got her the replacement, and she didn’t want to deal with all of it yet, but when it was something as important as her words, she had to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want me to catch you up?” Matt asked. “Properly this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She relaxed, taking a breath; that simple action felt so relaxing now. She’d never appreciated it so much before. Now she found herself depending on her ability to take deep inhalations, or just basking in the free chances to do so. As she took another, Katie nodded, switching her phone back on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That first one…” she began cautiously, looking at the name of the stream. “Did you go on it once?” she asked. “I feel like… like I’ve seen it. Before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her brother’s turn to take a deep breath, and she felt his shoulder tense. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I did. Romelle too. You remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Yeah, most of it,” she nodded. “You warned me. About the cameras,” she replied, wondering if she could get away with another nap, despite what Matt had promised about catching her up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the moment over and her already low energy taking a hit, she could have dozed without a problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt remained silent for a moment, then he held her close again. She realised that was for his assurance; his grip wasn’t tight or caging, he hardly touched her, just in case, but it was the way he leaned into her shoulder, like she might disappear that made her pause, and tighten her arms around his back, and enjoy the affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger passed and concerns abated, she listened to Matt as he told her about all the different hashtags that had been trending, the different questions that had been posed on the streams, which of the big-name reporters on other streaming services were covering the stories involved, and which angles were being taken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a lot to take in but she tried to absorb it as best she could. Before they could start the stream, their parents came back in, Shiro following, looking a less worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Matt asked. “Did it work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie snapped her head between her parents and brother frowning. “What?” She asked. “Did what work? What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I hadn’t got to it yet,” Matt said quickly. “Since the media has been so incessant over your release day, Kolivan thought it might help to have a police press conference to take the edge off. It was going to be tomorrow, but Keith offered to talk on it,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her a few moments until realisation clicked. “It’s a distraction?” She checked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With any luck,” Matt nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There will still be press outside,” her mother said, but there’s already less than before, and Dr Gorma said we could use one of the staff staircases to a side exit to avoid the bigger crowds at the front and back. A police car is going to meet us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sounded reasonable, or at least like it had been thought out. “How much longer?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another fifteen or twenty minutes or so,” her dad said. “The police only had one question.” Katie paused, waiting for him to continue. “We didn’t want you to worry about it, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, I already know,” she interrupted before there was another awkward moment. She could worry about those conversations later. “About them leaking about my words. What do they want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father looked surprised, her mother less so, but at Matt’s rolling hand gesture, he nodded, and continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They need to know if your comfortable confirming the information to the public. DCI Hawkins won’t make a decision on it without your permission first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is easiest to deal with?” She asked—just because she wanted to know what was going on didn’t make her any better at handling this scale of thing. “Which is better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irrelevant, in his words," her mother added. “Both have enough pros and cons, so it’s easier to just take a lead based on what you think. He said it wasn’t a decision for him to make by himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie listened to that, then looked at the phone in her hands. That was a big decision to make without a lot of time, but she could see why he wanted to know. She might have done the same. But she couldn’t make it without…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romelle, who had been mostly silent as she watched, put her hand into her pocket and after a few taps on the screen, held her phone out. “He won’t ignore the call from a known number,” she explained. “Not mine if he knows what’s good for him at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s highly debatable,” Matt snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking the phone, Katie stared at it for a moment, trying to decide, before she lifted her thumb, closed her eyes, and hit the call button lifting the device to her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few moments, she could only hear the line ringing through, then the phone picked up, followed by a rapid voice over the sound of a bustling echoing room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Romelle, I swear by all fate’s whims, if you’re giving birth right now, I will go down to forensics, rearrange your desk, hide your secret coffee stash, And I’ll put your cheat sheets through the shredder.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie bit her lip, trying not to laugh––from nerves or humour; either way it wasn’t the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Romelle’s fine,” she said, unable to keep the grin out of her voice. “She still has another month to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice on the line started, a gasp of surprise, short, blunt, more like an inhalation than anything verbal, and a taught silence stretched over the miles between their voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>...Miss Holt?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K-Katie,” she assured him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss H… Katie?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he corrected himself, still surprised. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>How… I mean…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he stumbled. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie blinked, remembering a moment he’d asked her that before; she’d found a way to respond, and while the question might be considered a silly one, she didn't think so. It was a small one, simple, full of concern, without any expectations or complicated responses like ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>how are you feeling?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and others of similar ilk did. It didn't feel like it expected anything more than what she could manage, and that was its own form of kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” she said finally, speaking the words this time. And she was, for the moment. Depending on the rest of the day she might not be––each day had its own surprises on what she could and couldn't cope with still––but right now, she was okay. Not great, but not terrible either, and that was an accomplishment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have surprised you,” she blurted. “I just… I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk if you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You have nothing to apologise for. I was just surprised. I wasn’t really expecting…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he coughed and cleared his throat. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m guessing this is about the conference?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to know what you meant, about…” she left it hanging. “...doesn’t it bother you? Your opinion counts just as much as mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Keith said. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>But as far as the press coverage goes, I already know what to expect. It wouldn’t have been right for me to make that decision for you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean like Sen…” Katie stopped herself short. “Never mind. Ignore me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realising that the conversation might be best without an audience, Romelle shooed her parents and brother to the doorway. She left it open with a reassuring smile in her wake, and Katie sighed with relief, trying to think more clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith hadn’t been ignoring her. She was just frustrated and impatient, and she didn’t want these complications. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all the trial it had taken to hear her words, couldn’t she just meet her soulmate properly? The first time she hadn’t been able to do anything but nod, the second she had been so scared and disorientated she’d only vaguely registered him as anyone trustworthy, and now she could only hear his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was she ever going to have an in-person conversation with him? She didn’t know, and that was frustrating, and yet still, she couldn’t help but feel relieved she didn’t have to deal with everything that came from that kind of pressure all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Katie?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Keith called out when she drifted off, trying to reason with herself. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You okay?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he asked, and the words, something she’d noted and heard without being spoken weeks ago, resonated as she listened to the voice that followed them. She tried to imagine them in person and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm okay,” she promised. “Sorry, I spaced out for a moment,” she apologised. “For a while I was a bit disappointed you didn’t want to meet, I thought you were avoiding me and…” Katie really hadn’t planned how this conversation was going to go, and it was falling down around her ears. “Sorry I’m not even sure what I’m saying anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence at Keith’s end of the line for a while. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I promise, I’m not avoiding you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he said carefully. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s just… a few things to finish off; a few more arrests to make, things like that. But tell me honestly; do you still think that now?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “No,” she admitted. “Don’t take this the wrong way?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t, I promise.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She believed him, because he’d already kept one. She was nearly home. She was with her family again. She was safe, just like he’d promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to meet you,” she admitted. “I even went looking for your hospital room, but you’d already left and… I was relieved. I don’t think I’m ready.” she said. “I can’t even talk to Coran properly yet. I want to meet you, if it's something we could do, even just once, one day,” she stressed––she didn’t want him to think she didn’t want to meet him at all. Because she did, and that was the frustrating part. “I just… I’m scared to. I need to fix myself before I start thinking about another person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The response caught her off guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>That probably sounds weird,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he added. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>But everything you just said is why I didn’t approach you. The first person you should be thinking about is yourself, not me. We’re soulmates yes, but it doesn’t mean we aren't still strangers to each other; I’ve had issues with my words for years, so I promise you, you weren’t the only one with doubts. I don’t know what you need right now, and if I tried to throw my opinion down on what you ought to do into the mix, I might end up doing you more harm than good. That’s…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he paused. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>...that’s the very last thing I want to do.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie felt like she was going to cry again. “Is it weird if I say thank you?” she asked, wiping her eyes and trying not to sniff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not a bit,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Keith said; she wasn’t sure if he was chuckling or not. It sounded like she could hear a smile in his voice. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m glad, really,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he continued, the sincerity echoing through the room as she checked the door again––it was still open. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know if I will be around much for a while, but if you need something, or want to talk, or… if the time comes when you do want to meet, I’ll be there...</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wiped her eyes, turning back away from the door, her eyes focusing on the window, the mob of reporters and camera flashes at the gate. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said. “So… these press people…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever you want, I’m happy with,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Keith said. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t tell you what I think. You should have the choice.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Choice. How long had it been since she last felt like she had any? Before Sendak for certain but maybe further back. Before she got her words, before Shiro, and before fate interrupted all her plans with three words she had never really given credit for the power they’d had in her life till the past few weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie sat and thought for a while, trying to imagine the better options. She wasn’t sure what was best, so she thought about what she wanted; it strangely didn’t take more than a minute to decide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith was silent. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re sure?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he checked. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not doubting you; I just want to be clear. Once I put it out here, it can’t be taken back. You’re sure it’s what you want?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logically, Katie knew she ought to really play it safe, but playing safe hadn’t been what got her here, and she’d never really been that kind of person. She didn’t want to let fear control her, and become the person Sendak had tried to make her into either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to face it all, head on. She’d made it out of Sendak’s control alive; the media couldn’t be as terrifying as that had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once the registry goes through they’ll find out anyway,” she shrugged. “There’s no point in delaying it. I think it’d be better to get it out of the way and over with; just because they know doesn’t mean they understand anyway, and…” Katie paused, wondering if she was going too far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>And?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Keith probed gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not ashamed of it. I’m not ashamed of how we met, or you” she said plainly. “How could I be? You saved my life Keith, and I’m not a big fate purist or anything but... it proved him wrong,” she said. “Sendak… he told me fate wasn’t going to help me, that nobody was going to find me, and for a while, I thought he was right, that no-one would, but you did. You proved him wrong,” she said, making her voice as emphatic as she could, hoping he could understand what that meant without being there in person. “And knowing that he’s eating his own words is a really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to wait through the stunned silence on the other end of the call before she got a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You really…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Keith sounded taken aback. Like he wasn’t sure what to say. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re really something, Katie,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he laughed. Not mocking, but a good sound. She wasn’t sure what he had been going to say but it sounded like it had gone down well. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>But I have to be honest, I like your thinking. Rubbing his face in it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ This time Katie could almost hear the grin in his voice. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sign me up.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’re really okay with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I am, wholeheartedly,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he assured her. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>But you gave us locations, you made it out, you sabotaged the neutraliser designs and bought yourself that time. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been able to find you. I…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he paused again. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t forget that. Not what that means about yourself, err...</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the sound of a bell, and he cursed. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>...Sorry, I think that’s the bell for the vultures to start screeching</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ he muttered, and she laughed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I think what I’m trying to say is that… you saved yourself too Katie.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”  What was she supposed to say to someone she’d never met or spoken to in person for a parting word? “Then… Bye for now Keith,” she tried, smiling despite herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bye for now Katie.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line clicked, and rang to a flat tone before it fully disconnected, and she sat contemplating her first words to her soulmate in the silence of a now emptied hospital room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie looked around at it, then dried the dampness so off her face, washing it in the bathroom sink to try and freshen up a little, before taking a breath and heading for the door. Several faces snapped towards her as she opened it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should be able to go soon,” she told them. She had a feeling they had heard through the crack in the door anyway, but it was better to be clear “He… Keith’s going to tell them. They’ll find out eventually anyway, so I don’t see the point in hiding it and kicking up a fuss again later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad looked like he wanted to argue, but Matt must have talked to them, because the moment passed, and he nodded, taking one of her bags from Shiro (who had taken them from the hospital room).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let Dr Gorma know,” her dad said, hand squeezing her shoulder gently. “We won’t be long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wandered off, and her mother let out a sigh of relief, pulling her into her arms. “Ready to go home?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie breathed in the scent of freesias and sweet peas, basking in it, wondering if she could absorb it into her skin for the rest of her life, so she couldn't forget it. “Like you wouldn’t believe mum,” she said, content in the familial embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon her father and Dr Gorma’s return, the police aide gave them confirmation that the car was ready, and they made their way down the backstairs to the car provided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her family surrounding her, Katie left the hospital, with only the future and freedom ahead.</span>
</p><hr/><p>This is late up. Its also late in GMT land, so I'm just going to hope Past-Natalie remembered to triple check with the spell checks on this one. Unfortunately, I don't have that much faith in her, but I'm too sleepy the be concerned so apologies for the typos.</p><p>Hope you guys enjoy the update! <em>*</em><strike><em>Hides under the table</em></strike><em>*</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Shadow on The Pavement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Katie’s first night back home, in the house she had grown up in,where every bump in the wall and scratch on the hallway floors were as familiar as the faces surrounding her, at first felt like her first night in confinement again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not because she was scared of her surroundings, but because despite knowing how to walk from her room to the kitchen with her eyes closed, it felt like she’s never lived there at all. Her own home felt like a stranger and it was unnerving to be surrounded by the comfort of it all in a way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Childhood memories hadn’t been forgotten; Katie knew she had grown up in the generously sized, sleek, modern house, ran away from Matt around the garden when he tried to stick a frog down her back, and sat beside the fire pit next to the pool with her dad watching the Vrig Day fireworks countless times, but the fiercest, most recent memories in her mind blocked all that out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt like she’d never been in the house before, and she was nervous after making it through the car journey, past the streets and swam of media attention, to just walk through the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They managed to avoid most of the reporters at the hospital. A crowd had flocked the car as the journalists realised there was a police escort leaving with them, and Katie had never been so glad for the one way glass when they crawled as close to the doors as they dared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car had made her nervous—for a moment she felt sick when she saw one of her bags going into the boot, and hadn’t wanted to get in the car—but she’d been okay. Matt got in first, and she found it easier to follow after that. She managed to distract herself during the journey too, thinking about the conversation she had with Keith. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie still wondered if it had been the right decision, but she was happy with it, and having the choice made her feel good. She didn't know if his consideration of that came from police experience or if it was just because of their bond, but she was grateful for it. It maybe wasn't much, but it gave her some reassurance that one day, hopefully, she’d be able to face him in person, talk, meet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talking with him had given her more clarity of mind, confirmed for her that it wasn't something she was ready for yet, but helped her feel that it would be possible. That was a good feeling to have, and it was probably what kept most of her alarm to a minimum of stiffening in her shoulders as they approached the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in a private neighbourhood which had its own security perimeter, so the press weren’t lining the way up to the garden gate, but they were still everywhere. Far more than could ever have fit in Voltedge’s conference room. They did their best to rush the car before being stopped by security guards and tried to sneak pictures in through the windows when Shiro turned down the window to give one of the busy gate guards his access key. Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to pull the shutter across the back of the front seats before they even set off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still made her feel sick. Or maybe that was the car journey. She couldn’t really tell, but she was relieved when they finally reached the private grounds of the house itself. It was, much like the estate perimeter Katie noticed, being patrolled by more police and more of the estate security guards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn't help staring, looking around at the familiar plants and trees, the patio in front of the door with the swing seat as she got out of the car, taking a breath after the unnerving and claustrophobic journey. Only Matt’s hand around her own had kept her from fearing the slam of the door and pitch black she’d expected to close her in at any moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the vehicle, Katie tried to remind herself of all the time she’s spent curled up on the swing seat seat, either in the peak of summer with shorts and a frozen water bottle or in the winter with a blanket and hot chocolate, working on her college coursework, or just reading. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’d spent so long wishing she’d see it again, tried everything she probably shouldn’t have just to get a chance of seeing it again, despite spending the past four years trying to get away from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was home, and she knew this house more than her own apartment. She knew the cracks in the walls where spring wildflowers grew every year in tiny clusters; she knew the jam on the door leading into the pantry that meant you had to lift the door as the handle dropped a little to get out after going in if it closed; she knew how to walk around the lights in the hallway so they did not come on automatically and blind her in the night when she just wanted a snack from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew where every family photo was supposed to be, every piece of furniture, and where every memory lived, and now that she was finally back, finally home, she was scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was scared to go inside, not because of what she could see or remember, but because she felt as though if she did, she might never get out again, or that it might disappear. She wasn't sure which, and while everything in her was screaming with relief, basking in the safety of the familiar walls before her, Katie was anxious to set inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her parents and Shiro were lifting things from the car, and Romelle had already made her way up to the door, but Katie was still unsure as her brother joined her on the steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What's going through your mind sis?” he asked gently; she appreciated the calm, and quiet, so their parents didn’t overhear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not sure,” she said. “I’m just… nervous. I know it's stupid, but it feels like… like I've never been here before, or its all going to disappear, or if I go inside…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped herself, biting her lip. She hadn't really talked about any specifics with Coran, but she knew this wasn't her logical brain making her uncertain, and yet, Katie couldn't stomp the feeling away, no matter how ridiculous it was, and it made her teeth grind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I know it's stupid, I know it's not… it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt squeezed her hand first, then put his arm around her shoulders, open, loose and with plenty of room to shake him off; Katie leaned into it, letting him slowly lead her up the steps. “I know all the security looks scary,” he said. “It freaked me out too, first time I saw them all, but if you want to leave, no-one is going to stop you sis. They’re here to keep those vultures out. Not keep you in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie bit her lip as they approached the door, letting out a breath. The simple explanation helped pull away some concern, but not all of it. It was like waking up at the hospital again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed to get herself used to freedom the same way she had to try to reacquaint herself with the faces of her family when she finally came around from days of sedation, smoke fumes, and the injuries accrued during her captivity. She didn't think the feeling would go away anytime soon, and just had to work herself through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Matt's reassurance, Katie finally headed up the steps for the door. Her childhood home hasn't changed much since she had last seen it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did notice that her mother’s candles from the mantelpiece were gone, replaced by electric wax burners that doubled as decorative lights instead, and the fireplace had been turned off. There was more flurry to the paperwork that always cluttered the coffee table in the living room––one subtitle read ‘...</span>
  <em>
    <span>outline of criminal charges formally lodged against Bogh Torseth, Lahn Chase, and Jake Yurak</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, and she turned her eyes away from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around she didn't really know what to do with herself. She was tired just from the car ride again, and still worried about the press. She wanted to know what Keith had told them the conference, but was also aware that turning on the stream and watching the broadcast was probably not going to be a good idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to help with unpacking but between her parents and Matt, and Shiro, Katie eventually joined Romelle on the living room sofa as they took her belongings from the hospital upstairs. Her sister-in-law chattered away, mostly distracting her from her own vacant indecision about what to do, but Katie felt her eyes lingering in the doorways, constantly checking they were still open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was happy to be home, but unease was a base feeling that she couldn't really shake. She told herself that was normal––she’d been uneasy in the hospital for a few days too. At least she remembered arriving; she couldn’t remember getting to the hospital, and even the last moments of imprisonment were blurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fiercest thing she remembered was watching smoke and embers rising towards an evening sky from the arms of someone she’d never met who, in spite of everything that had happened, she’d been able to trust completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After her parents and Shiro were done, her mum wandered off to make a call to the police, and she could hear her dad clattering around in the kitchen, talking about making cannelloni for dinner, and she tried to relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything looked to be in place, the paintings, her mother’s china cat ornaments, the digital display that tracked the company shares and stocks by her father’s home office desk in one corner. They all looked the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something nagged at her though, and she checked the room again, her eyes going over the photo frames and hand print moulds from when she and Matt were babies hanging over the fireplace, the pictures from her grandparents golden anniversary, from Matt and Romelle’s wedding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she realised what it was, especially after she had made her way to the bathroom, and wandered her home for a while, re-familiarising herself with reality again; a few of the photographs were missing. The ones where Bogh had been present had either been removed or replaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Given the presence he and Shiro had in her life, he’d been in and out of them the same way everyone else had, so she could understand why he parents might want to remove his presence from their memories, but it was… strange, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.  Some had been replaced with cropped photos, or edited ones, but in some places, there were new photos entirely, and in others, they had been completely removed, and it was a little strange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was distracted by the sound of excited barking and the scrape of dog claws on the wooden floors as Baebae—who her parents must have picked up from her penthouse—scrambled from the conservatory into the living room, jumping and reaching up for cuddles and affectional licks on her cheek as she sat back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, she forgot the unease with her dog’s unconditional affection. Baebae nuzzled her shoulders and forced her head under her hand for scritches, licked her fingers and the unhindered love made her smile, for a moment. Then Babae stopped and stared at her, tilting her head to one side, and whined, sitting down in her lap and leaning her head against her shoulder, watching her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like she knew something was wrong. She probably did. And not in the way she sometimes knew Katie would be leaving for a work or uni trip, and was being dropped off with Matt and Romelle, or her parents. It was like she knew she wasn’t sure, was uncomfortable, wasn’t quite wired the same as she had been when she last saw the bull terrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her attention calmed, the licks on her check became more subtle, even if they were still incessant, and the nuzzles at her hands joined by a few on her wrist, and sniffs and mournful sounds at the brace and bandages still dotting her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bull terrier sat with her for the rest of the short evening, climbing into her lap beneath the table over dinner, and followed her back to her room after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Katie flopped down on top of clean, fresh smelling sheets (in some comfy, cotton pyjamas that were loose, cropped and with an  open neckline that felt easy to breathe in) she felt strangely anxious still. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d never see beyond the walls, or they were all going to disappear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure which, but she wrote it down in a note on the phone to talk to Coran about when he made his way over in a few days time for their first real appointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she wrote Baebae poked her head around the door and immediately jumped up onto the duvet, circling and seating herself down, laying her head on her lap with an affectionate whine. Smiling, Katie fussed over her dog for a while, and didn’t feel quite as guilty for her unease as the dog crawled under the bedcovers and curled up beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After being desperate for contact with her family, now that she had it again, Katie felt lost. She didn't know what to talk about, and things that would normally have been easy no longer were. It felt like she was lagging behind and she didn't know how to catch up yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just wanted a break, and so had told her parents she was tired. Which she was, just not for sleep, mostly of the interaction with so many people. She didn't know what to make of it, but she wrote down everything that she was thinking down all the same, enjoying the cuddles from her dog (who leaned into her shoulder, licked her chin once, nuzzled her and licked her wrist as she wrote) and the comfort of her own bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baebae whined, then licked her wrist again. Her blank wrist. Looking at her dog curiously, Katie scratched her behind the ears, kissing the top of her head when she whined, the sound clearly one of canine concern. “Thanks girl,” she reassured her. “I’ll be okay, eventually. I’m safe now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baebae whined again, but she seemed to accept that, and shuffled closer, leaning her head on her shoulder and starting to doze. Smiling at her, Katie set aside her notebook which had been dedicated to the task of tracking her emotions, the things that made her jump and start, and her errant thoughts that sometimes led her back to panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while she thought about switching on the news, finding out what had happened at the conference. She couldn't help thinking about Keith, and what he’d told her, the relief that had escaped her almost in a sob when he told her he wasn't going to try and press her to meet yet, even though she had been looking for him in the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she was struggling to handle the freedom of roaming her own childhood home, or the company of her own family to the point of hiding in her bedroom, there was no way she was ready to face her soulmate. But she was curious about him, and Romelle and Matt had only told her so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at her phone, trying to decide if it was worth the risk of opening up one of her social media accounts or the news app, but in the end, she turned it off completely, dropping the contraption onto the nightstand, before shifting under the covers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lights off,” she mumbled, prompting the glow of the room to fade to match the evening light, helped by the dimming glass in the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curling up with Baebae again, she drifted off, exhausted from the anticlimactic day.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The sound of barking cut through the pace and haze of the needle pressing into her neck, the ropes wound tight around her arms and shoulders and ankles as Katie tried to free herself, tried to scream, her voice stolen from her by the rag shoved between her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She screamed as she heard the barking, looking out over the back hatch of a car as she cried, desperate for help as a familiar voice murmured in her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not making any more noise or going anywhere, so just let the drug do its work, and you can sleep through all this; doesn't that sound better Princess?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to move, Katie screamed again, and the barking echoed back, a lost chance, her only chance, before it was replaced by lower whines and canine cries that pierced her fear and memories, jolting Katie from her tormented rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She coughed and sobbed, clinging to Baebae as her dog crawled into her arms, anxious licks at the stinging salty tears on her face. Her breath was only slightly less ragged when the door—never closed, always ajar despite the slight draught—creaked open. Freesias scented the air, and she leaned into her mother’s reassuring, patient hold, and cried it all out.</span>
</p><p><span>‘</span><em><span>They couldn’t hear me!</span></em> <em><span>I tried, but they didn’t hear me!</span></em><span>’ ‘</span><em><span>Why did he do it?</span></em><span>’ ‘</span><em><span>I don’t understand</span></em><span>.’ ‘</span><em><span>I couldn’t do anything!</span></em><span>’</span></p><p>
  <span>The words were probably not unfamiliar to her mother’s ears, late in the early morning when her nightmares usually snared her in a mental vice and refused to let go without Baebae or her panic attacks—sometimes both—waking her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the past three weeks, since arriving home, they had gradually become… something that happened. Not quite routine, but the episodes of sleep-induced fear were not strange anymore. Not every night, but often enough that her mother’s appearance and Baebae’s reaction no longer spooked her when she woke up</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This one was by all standards, one of the easier ones. Sometimes she didn’t even wake up screaming when she dreamt about Bogh, just to her dog licking the tears off her face with a sad anxious whine in her muzzle. While that was not the case this morning, it was better than the ones that featured Sendak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those were blissfully fewer, but the ones easiest to set off from the tiniest, most innocuous of things throughout the day, things she didn’t expect. They were the ones that had her crying for what felt like hours and exhausted her from thinking of anything else that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Compared to those, her unanswered questions about Bogh were a blessing that passed relatively quickly in comparison. Her questions remain unanswered, but her mother’s reassurance and Baebae’s unconditional concern and affection both gave her distraction and enough patience for the shudders to calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point she was sure she heard Matt, or maybe her dad poke their head round the door too, but she didn’t see them between the crying and the attempts to regain her composure. Eventually she calmed down. She always did, after a bit. It helped that she could actually move and breathe without hindrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bogh had reassured her, but he'd never let her go, or untied her. At best he only took the gag off and let her cry over him, and being home, surrounded by family, had been a stark reminder of how much of what she was still going through was his fault, what he had caused, and where the kindness she had perceived from him had ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was five in the morning when she managed to regain some calm; after she’d reassured her mother she was alright, that her panic had passed, and she left the room, Katie had dropped back onto her pillows with Baebae curled up under her arm wide eyed and alert to ward away  the invisible torments that plagued her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By eleven, she had actually slept, and felt alert enough to pull herself out of bed, pull her multicoloured dressing gown and cat slippers over her pyjamas, and head downstairs, Baebae scrabbling over the floor to follow as she made her way down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t really feel good after the nightmares, but she needed to wake up and focus instead of sleeping in again; after a bit of a break, the police had been asking for permission to talk with her again, and she knew she couldn’t put it off forever. She needed to be focussed before they arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d had some time to just stay in a relatively peaceful bubble. It had been three weeks since she had arrived home, still spooked and unsettled by the things that had changed in her life since she had been kidnapped, and while she was feeling better, and a lot of her injuries had healed, some things were etched into more than just her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr Gorma had warned her that the side effects of being give Q could disturb her sleeping patterns for a while, and so far, that was standing up in his assessment; some days she slept all the way to four in the afternoon, others she went to back to bed at ten in the morning only hours after waking from another nap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spent more time sleeping than anything else, and it made it harder to get back to normal. She also still hadn’t left the house, something Coran was trying to encourage her to do; it was infuriating, and she hated it, but the thought of going outside, even where the mob of reporters couldn’t see her, was more than enough to make her balk at the thought of going anywhere again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to mention she was half worried she’d just black out in the garden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still had trouble just finding things to do. KBP had crossed her mind for a while, but something about it didn’t have the same escapism as before. She felt like using it that way would be bad for her overall, so she tried to avoid it, or just watched Matt play instead, he always asked, but so far, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Books were okay, and music was good, but she needed peace and quiet for that or had to go into her room and hook up her wireless speakers; she preferred headphones, but didn’t want to be caught off guard by the lack of background noise, and didn’t want to disturb anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was her college work too, but that also wasn’t going very far. Her laptop had been picked up from her penthouse, untouched and exactly as it had been the morning she left for work; by some miracle she had forgotten it the day of the bombing, and the cloud storage on her final project for her masters was sitting waiting for the edits she’d wanted to make after talking to Vrek before his father turned her life upside down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t even sure that she could still apply for her masters; for all she knew she had missed the deadline and would have to start the project afresh. Katie knew the best way to find out would be to message her professors and ask, and she started a few times, but the editor remained empty, the text indicator blinking patiently for type that didn’t come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come get something to eat honey,” her mother said, not sounding as tired as she ought to for being up so early trying to convince Katie that she wasn't back in her cell room with Bogh or Sendak. “I made porridge this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light through the kitchen window was bright and Katie had to squint her eyes a little as it stung them; she took a seat with her back to it, next to Matt, and she heard the clank of ceramic on the marble countertop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Porridge?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie stared at the bowl in front of her, not feeling sick, but not sure if she was hungry for a moment; the oats were steaming in one of the bowls she had painted at a pottery workshop on a holiday in Bluve, before they got the lake house. Maybe the same holiday her mother saw it and suggested a permanent holiday home to her dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was some double cream turning runny from the warmth over the warm mixture, pooling and mixing in with the dark brown sugar it had been poured over, becoming a luscious warm syrup over the oats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It smelled amazing, but for a few moments she could only hear Bogh’s voice in her ears. Then she picked up the spoon and took a few mouthfuls, mindful of the worried glances from her mother and brother when she paused, staring at her food and mind anywhere but the taste or comfort it usually provided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Large portions were still a bit much for her, but given how big of a meal it was anyway, Katie found herself almost over faced even with her slightly reduced portion. She managed to eat about half, but even with that small amount her stomach was churning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat with Matt watching some daytime morning crap on the tv before the churning got too much, and she made a couple of excuses about getting dressed before the police arrived, and headed back upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flopping down on her bed, she scratched Baebae behind the ears as she jumped up beside her, trying to control the swirl of thoughts and hoping her stomach was going to calm down. Clearly, today was going to be one of the days when she found herself with a hundred questions, no answers, and conflicting memories no amount of empathy could make her family understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wrote down everything going through her head, and the slip over her breakfast for Coran, and tried to relax a little. When her stomach still did not calm, she huffed, and got to her feet again, and headed into her bathroom. Whether by the coolness from the tiles or the peace and quiet, it was just more relaxing as she laid down on the plush lavender rug. Definitely more calming than laying on her bed had been; her stomach finally began to settle, and she drifted off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her impromptu nap was interrupted when she started as the sound of footsteps coming in from the hallway, heading into her room, and she snapped awake as Matt’s voice came through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pidge?” he blinked before poking his head around the small gap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she blinked, sitting up to talk to him properly. “I dozed off. What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine,” he said leaning against the doorframe. “we figured you were sleeping. Mum and Dad just got a call from Kolivan; he’s not far from the drive…” he paused, biting his lip. “…if you want, I can tell them today’s not a good day for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie stared at him, trying to work out what he meant, then she looked around at her bathroom. The corner shelves inside the walk-in, raised, sunken tub and purple accents in her favourite bath potions, the fluffy rug she’d been lying on, and the electric lavender candles on the edge of the bath (which had replaced the natural ones).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” she said softly, realising where the tint of concern in the offer was coming from. “I’m okay, I promise,” she assured him quickly. “It’s just nice and peaceful in here and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She left it hanging—she knew she wouldn't really be able to explain herself—and grabbed onto the side of the marble around the tub to lift herself back to her feet. Matt gave her a hand up, and she let herself sink in for a hug to try and reassure him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure about this?” He asked, his arms light around her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded before stepping away, inhaling a low breath as she braved herself. “I’m sure, she promised. “I want to, and Coran will be there too. He won't let me do more than I can handle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt still didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, leaving the room to let her get dressed. She found a cotton zip up polo neck dress with three quarter sleeves and a handkerchief hem that looked comfortable and some fuzzy slipper-boots before making her way back down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was going to be the first of many harder days, but talking to the police was the start of going back to normal, or whatever remained of it, and while she had her worries, she didn’t want to run away from that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather, the prospect of the end of this, the real end, with Sendak behind bars, or getting his just desserts for all the people he’d hurt, herself included, was something she could run straight towards with absolute certainty.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Kolivan, Regris, and Coran were waiting with her parents in the living room when she got downstairs with Matt. They were talking quietly, and Coran was the first to see her, a smile on his familiar moustache, and he walked over to meet her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good afternoon my dear,” he greeted her grandly. “How are we today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie wrapped her arms around herself taking a breath. “Okay,” she said, a little more quickly than she would have liked, but with sincerity. “Just... nervous. Do you want my journal now or should I wait till later this week?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep hold of it for now. Going through it together is part of its use in helping you,” Coran said calmly, still smiling. “It’s fine to be nervous, normal even. This is a big step to take, but Superintendent Rolstron and Sergeant Keaton will work with you and what you’re comfortable with, and if I think something’s too much for you, I'll step in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie breathed out and nodded. She knew that. She had told Matt that herself and she hadn’t changed her mind. Hearing Coran confirm it helped though, and helped assuage her own doubt. She could manage this. It wasn’t supposed to be a bunch of too many questions anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad had told her it was just to keep her updated on the case progress and discuss the charges that had been pressed against Bogh, Sendak and Lahn. They wanted to ask her about a few details but had promised they would be respectful of her own mental and physical limits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was finally free. She was finally home, and while her life wasn’t going to be the same again, she was determined not to let the effects of what had happened ruin everything about what was left of the normality in her life. She couldn’t do that if she didn’t listen to what happened next in legal terms, or try to help the police. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She also wanted to know the details of what had been going on. Her parents were still wary of telling her too much, which she understood; fucking porridge, apparently, was on her list of things to give a wider birth now. Talking about Sendak, about Bogh, about any of it, just the thought of it made her nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coran’s reminder that it was normal to feel anxious about this was more of a relief than the simple words sounded, and she felt more at ease as she sat down on the sofa in the sun lounge, a bright airy room overlooking the garden, with Matt and Coran. Her parents had taken the loveseat, and Kolivan and Regris had taken the sofa opposite her. With them was another man, who she didn't recognise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Holt,” Kolivan greeted. “I’m glad to see you looking well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than last time we met,” she smiled awkwardly, looking at the stranger with less confidence; the official-looking suit suggested he too was with the police, but something about him made her uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie, this is Commissioner Michael Mozak,” Kolivan introduced. “He’s here to add what he can to our discussion today, and talk about some of the recent developments in the parts of your case being handled by the NCD.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie got the distinct impression from the slight stiffness in the superintendents voice, and the pure, foul-hearted glower Romelle was side eyeing him with from her seat beside Matt, that there was some police tension in regards to the man, but the lack of commentary told her it was probably a professional thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's nice to meet you Miss Holt,” the man said. “I realise you weren't expecting me and for that I apologise, but I'm here to share some information that I feel is important for you and your family going forward, and will help explain some of the questions Kolivan and Regris have regarding your experiences with the cult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that, but she nodded, though she still kept an eye on Kolivan and Romelle for a better judge of the man. At first he left things to Regris and Kolivan, and the two police reps went through the charges that were being charged against Sendak, Lahn, and Bogh. Macidus, as he had not been captured was not on the list that included Arson, Murder, GBH, Kidnaping, Torture, and several other criminal charges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of them she knew, but today, they had come by to talk about Bogh. She hadn't been ready to talk about him in the hospital, but she was more willing to try now. Over the past three weeks since she had finally returned home, she had learned more from Romelle and her brother, her parents about Bogh’s role in what had happened, but she still found it hard to grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Bogh had been a relatively kind face, that had been in comparison to Sendak. Being back home had revealed how limited his kindness was, and while she had been told the story of him being taken into custody, confessing and agreeing to his charges, and providing as much information as he knew about her location willingly… she found it hard to put beside the two people she had associated him as; her bodyguard and her jailer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did her best to be honest, to tell them a frank account of how she had interacted with him during her time held hostage, but it wasn't easy to do, because she had depended on him a very great deal in spite of what he had done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had continually trusted him, because she had no one else </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust, and truly believed he was safer than any of the others. Maybe he had been. But the contorted relationship in her head and reality were two different things, and she also had to remind herself that the dependency and attachment, and her relief that he really had tried to help her, that he’d kept his promise the last time she had seen him, were not healthy things to keep holding on to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did her best though, and Kolivan and Regris were patient. They also answered her own questions, confirming the details of how he had confessed, explained what he had done to help the investigation so far, before they moved onto more difficult parts of the discussion, namely, Sendak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just the thought of him was enough to put her on edge, but she tried to describe her first few interactions with him, the ones that police had not seen, starting with the first time he’d burned her during her call with Matt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That one wasn't so bad, but the closer they got to her escape, and its aftermath, the more she found herself having to take pauses, to look around the room and ground herself in reality instead of the unpleasant memories which returned with the discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this is difficult for you Katie,” Kolivan said, after one of her longer pauses, where Coran had to pull her back to the conversation with a few gentle words. “But what you've told us is important for our defence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re talking about the trial,” she checked, sipping a glass of water Matt had gone to get from the kitchen for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan nodded again. “I am,” he said. “I'm aware that much of this might seem like irrelevant information to a case which is, in effect, closed, but we fully expect Sendak to invoke a soul bond collateral based defence at the first hearing, and the more we can present as evidence unrelated to that supposed effect, the higher his chance of being fully prosecuted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can that possibly protect him?” Matt choked. “Even before he dragged Katie into this, he was psychopath! He’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrorist</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While people haven't always been let off for less, the amount of soulbond related crime and the ambiguity of the laws can make it difficult, especially when a known soulbond or soulmeet is involved, to get the full weight of the punishment handed down,” Regris said. “Until laws change, it’s an infuriating roadblock to justice, and yes, the Purificationist perspective on demanding its removal as a valid legal defence versus their occasional dependency on it is infuriatingly ironic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And regarding Katie?” Her father asked; Kolivan looked a little sick, and he shifted for a moment, clearly trying to find the best way possible to explain what already sounded like bad news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We believe,” he said finally, his tone careful. “That Sendak will not only try to shift his responsibility for his actions towards your daughter onto herself and DCI Hawkins, but also use their bond to claim responsibility for any of his actions in previous cases which he will also be on trial for in connection to Katie’s case, in hopes of escaping a severe verdict,” Kolivan said, his voice sour with distaste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s barbaric! How can that…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the discussion curdled around her, Katie closed her eyes trying to reason out what they had just heard, and not let it burrow into her head as she realised the enormity of it. Sendak was going to try and salvage himself by taking advantage of the dodgy bond laws he claimed to hate so much and blame her for his role in the trauma he’d spent weeks conditioning and torturing her with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…tie…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was aware of people talking to her, she could hear the noise of talking around her, but it felt like someone had just dosed her full of sedatives again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…an you give us a moment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t hear anything, and she felt sick, and cold, like she was being suffocated by the revelation. It felt like she couldn’t move. For a moment it felt like she couldn't see the room before her even though her eyes were open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…tie, can you hear me?…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was talking to her, and holding her hands, and she tried to focus on the sensation, not the rolling waves of fear crawling through her mind and shivering though her. She had to force herself to listen to her breathing, to remind herself that despite what she had just heard, it didn’t mean she was in danger. She was home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…sweetheart, focus on my voice, it’s okay, you’re safe now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last three words shattered the grip of panic enough that Katie could think about something else, about the absolute relief in the memory of hearing the words for the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't the first time her mother had used the words to help her pull out of her panic attacks. The memory of relief, of the knowledge that she’d survived, that she would be okay, that her efforts and hope hadn’t been in vain, that Sendak had been wrong about her soulmate, was a contrast to everything clawing through her brain and senses, and much as she had when she had been held hostage, Katie used it to keep her head above the murky depth of her own mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew that depending on it wasn't something she could do forever—she didn't want to either—but for now, recalling that relief, remembering that it had indeed happened, helped. After a few moments, it felt like she could see and hear everything again, and she could blink the haze away, and focus on the calm assurances from her mother and Coran. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others had left the room, something she was glad for, after the disorientating shift of focus. Then it really sunk in, and her stomach churned. As fast as she could, she bolted through the living room into the kitchen, for the closest sink she could find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The porridge from earlier was no longer content to remain in her stomach after the unpleasant revelation on the monumental task that prosecuting Sendak had been revealed to be, and she vomited into the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t fair. It wasn't right. Was this supposed to be some kind of twisted message? Was Sendak trying to use her to promote his ideology again?  How was she supposed to live with all of this if he was going to try and blame </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> for what he’d done? How was that even allowed to happen? She knew that bond laws were kind of crap, and were in the process of being reviewed in a lot of places, but was this really something that could happen?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her logical mind understood. She knew there were problems, and had known it wouldn’t be as simple as she hoped it would be. She hadn't expected it to be this bad though, and as her stomach heaved, she felt bitter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother followed her, a calming presence, gentle circles from her fingers on her shoulders as she hunched over the sink, and giving her some water from the fridge’s chilled dispenser when she could finally lift her head without having to be sick again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t do this,” she sobbed when she finally leaned into her mother’s embrace. “How can he do this? I can't…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t,” he mother said; her voice was soft and calm and comforting, but Katie heard the steel in her  words, the fury that wasn't directed at her. “We will not let him get away with what he did to you, or use you as a scapegoat for everyone else he’s hurt. He will not get away with it,” she promised. “Do not believe that we’ll let him hurt you again Katie, please don’t believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She choked and sobbed in her mother’s arms for a while, until the initial shock of the news had faded, and the crying had left her with another headache. Sipping at the water and rinsing her mouth again, she washed her face, then glanced through the archway into the living room. She could see Coran talking with her father, the police reps. They looked like they were already planning to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt was standing by the archway, and he gave her a small encouraging smile as he came into the room. “Kolivan said to tell you that they’re come back at a different time.” he said carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie wanted to let them leave. She was exhausted and it wasn’t even that late. She’d barely been awake a few hours, and it looked like the rest of the day was going to be a bad one already, but after taking a few breaths trying to calm the turns of her mind, she shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can manage a little longer,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to keep going, to try a little longer. Her mother and Matt protested, tried to convince her to change her mind, but she persuaded them otherwise, promising she would back out if things really got too much, but insisting that she wanted to continue: ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>If this is really something he’s going to try, then I don't want to give him more chances to succeed by not talking to the police,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ she reasoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coran, following Matt’s reluctance after that statement came in, spoke to her for a while, made sure  she was certain, made sure she was comfortable continuing, talked with her about what it was that had been the trigger to her disassociation, and while she wasn't sure exactly, he was happy to let her keep going with the reminder that she didn't push herself .</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s admirable to be brave Katie,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he said. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>But I want you to remember that you don’t have to be. You are allowed to feel uncomfortable about these discussions, and there is no shame in it if you feel overwhelmed, and want to stop them. The police will respect your choice in that.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took the advice, and promised him she would try to stay aware of when too much was too much, and know when to cut the conversation. Matt still looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't stop her either, and sat with her again when she rejoined them in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan also checked that she was sure about continuing, and apologised for his wording; Katie assured him it hadn't been his that as much as the news in general that what should have been an open and shut trial for a terrorist was going to be debated in soulbond court instead thanks to the ever disturbing loopholes in criminal law.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can only imagine how disturbing this has been to hear,” he said. “And I promise you, we will do everything we can to stop him from achieving this, but I do believe your testimony, as well as Mr Torseth’s, will be important in preventing Sendak’s case from reaching the soulbond courts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?” she asked, sipping at the water again. The condensation on the glass was cool on her hands, and the sensation was grounding. It helped her keep her mind clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regarding yourself Miss Holt,” the Commissioner said, taking over. “By showing his actions and motives prior to Sendak’s knowledge of your soulbond, combing your testimony with Mr Torseth’s, we’re confident that it will demonstrate he was acting independently of it, and following his acknowledgement of them, as such, is fit to be tried under the full strength of the death penalty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bogh again. “He’s… Bogh </span>
  <em>
    <span>agreed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to this? I know you said he turned himself in but… How does that have any relevance? He was one of them,” she pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two police men exchanged a look, and Kolivan looked at her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can understand your scepticism Miss Holt, but Mr Torseth has been extremely cooperative in regard to our current investigation regarding the cult, something our analysts have accredited to his disenchantment of the cult following your abduction,” he said, “Mr Torseth revealed during his initial confession that he was tasked with choosing a target for Sendak after infiltrating your family circle,” he said, and she nodded despite the bitter rise of bile in the back of her throat. “He claims he was already wavering in his loyalties to the Cult, and explained that his reasoning for his choice was based on his belief that you were more likely to survive due to the implications of your words,” Kolivan continued pausing as she absorbed the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know if she believed it or not. If she could believe that Bogh really had been trying to help her in spite of everything, it certainly wasn't something that she wanted to talk about or think about now. Instead she sipped at the water, focusing on the cool sensation on her tongue, and nodded, taking the hand her brother offered her. “I’m… following, albeit dubiously,” she said. “How does that help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Torseth is on record, thanks to our recovered footage from Sendak’s first base, warning you not to reveal your words to him, and he has repeatedly claimed during our interrogations that he did not reveal them to Sendak,” Kolivan explained. “While initially we expect that to be part of Sendak’s defence, his own actions in acknowledging them and using theme in his broadcast, can be shown as his acknowledgement of his crimes; given that he proceed, he can be shown as acting out of any influence your soul bond may, in some views, have caused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they wanted to know as much as they could from what they hadn't seen on the cameras about her interactions with him to make him look even more culpable; she could think of several instances, but Coran and Matt’s words and concerns were emphatic, and she knew they were not misplaced. “I think I can do that but… maybe not… not today,” she said  after thinking it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Kolivan said. “This is already a lot for you to digest, and we can work with you regarding this,” he assured her. “We do have one other matter to discuss with you, if that’s alright, which Commissioner Mozak will explain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded again, and the grey haired commissioner cleared his throat. “As I’ve already said, I'm here on behalf of the NCD; Kolivan has covered most of the details, but I came here today to talk  about another case we’re investigating in connection with your own,” he said. “As you know DCI Hawkins was the head of the investigation into your rescue,” he started; Katie nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kind of hard not to know who her soulmate was now, but she waited for him to expand his comment if only for her own curiosity. While Keith had asked Romelle to share his contact details for when she was ready to talk again, Katie wasn't ready to use them, and he hadn’t contacted her. She might not know much about him, but she knew what his name was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Following his own recovery, he has been assisting our current investigation, which given its connection to your own case Miss Holt, is the reason you may have had restricted contact with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie frowned, and she could feel some tension growing in the room again; he was right about her having limited contact with Keith. Besides the phone call at the hospital, she hadn’t heard from him at all, but that was at her own preference right now. He had mentioned that he wouldn't be available for a while though—was that what he was talking about?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven't spoken much but he said he wouldn't be around,” she told the commissioner, feeling a little on edge from the drop in the room. “Because of this other case?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man nodded. “DCI Hawkins is working alongside the NCD and FCD Purificationist teams in following and and capturing a senior member of the cult alongside one of our undercover operatives,” he said—beside her Matt tensed, his grip on her hand tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Undercover operative?” he father asked, his voice taking an unpleasant tone that she wasn’t used to hearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Mozak said. “They managed to infiltrate the cult and have recently entered senior rankings, something we have been trying to achieve for several years now. DCI Hawkins is now assisting us with the case, but I would also like to ask for your assistance Miss Holt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw dropped a little. “Uh… I don’t know how to tell you this, but I didn't see many people, and after I escaped I didn't… I can’t remember much of what happened after that,” she reminded him. “I wasn’t even awake a lot of the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m aware of that Miss Holt,” Mozak nodded, opening up a picture on his datapad; it was a blown up picture, taken from a hallway camera. She could see Bogh carrying her in the background, over his shoulder; Sendak was also there, speaking to a woman whose features weren't clear, but ones Katie recognised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hard lines and fine cuts and sharp eyes—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Katie kicked and pulled, digging her nails into Sendak’s arm, his face, bit his hand, anything she could as she heard a rolling door open—</span>
  </em>
  <span>the expensive, well tailored clothes and cloying perfume—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Macidus was holding the back of the van open as she was manhandled, and she caught a glimpse of Lahn sat in the front seat before Macidus and Sendak pulled her into the back between them—</span>
  </em>
  <span>and thin willowy figure that hid what had felt like the strength of iron, twisting her skin —</span>
  <em>
    <span>That white-haired woman was sitting there too, a high function datapad in front of her—</span>
  </em>
  <span>belonged not to a face that caused her nightmares, but to one she wouldn’t easily forget either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we believe that you have in fact, had contact with someone we suspect to be an extremely important member of the cult hierarchy. We don’t know her real name, and have been referring to her as Hagg—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The woman with the white hair?” She asked, trying not to let the shake and fear the memory brought with it into her voice. “Who Kolivan and Regris asked about in the hospital?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The commissioner paused, and nodded. “She was in the van,” Katie frowned; things were foggy,  like having a hangover sometimes, but she remembered seeing a woman. “I saw her there too, she had a laptop,” she said, trying to remember what she could from that particular event. “ Maybe a high-function datapad? I’m sure she was there. In the front of the van before…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Katie felt her thoughts slip, consumed by the memory of being captured a second time for a moment, then flashes coming into her mind of the woman who had replaced Lahn, had helped Sendak take a photo of her wrist, her words, who Sendak had given way to. She worked herself through it, focusing on the feeling of Matt’s hand around hers again. Trying to work through what she had just been told, and what it meant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I saw her…” she choked; the gravity of the implications hitting her like a sledgehammer, or more acutely, like the phantom wiry, iron grip on her wrists—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sure you know better than to try something stupid again by now, don’t you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—and the sound of words being snarled into her ear. “I wasn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see her, was I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mozak took a deep breath. “No,” he said. “We don’t believe she would have shown her face to you if she or Sendak thought you would live to identify it later,” he said, his voice a little more gentle. “While we would like to know as much information as you can tell us of this woman, our other reason for telling you this is because there's a probability the cult could try to… correct their oversight in exposing you to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… I hardly spoke to her…” Katie said, a little shocked, her grip on Matt’’s hand tightening—‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s a liability Bogh; there’s no point in letting her go. The sooner we light her up the better. It’ll be easier for everything ahead to get rid of her,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’—at the revelation she was technically still in danger. “I don't even know her name! She didn't even say anything to me except not to...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have seen her face,” the man said, his tone full of apology and sympathy. “Which, in essence, means you can identify her in legal testimony,” he explained. “I’m here to offer you and your family witness protection as the case continues, regardless of whether that becomes an option.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Witness protection? Katie tried to wrap her mind around what that meant, and she felt sick. This wasn't happening. Not again. “What… what does that mean, exactly?” she asked. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave home right now, I’ve only just—” she took a breath, trying to steady her breathing as she felt herself panicking. “—I don't want to leave!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won't have to Miss Holt,” he assured her. “While a safe house would be more ideal, we can arrange to  have your home here taken under the same kind of surveillance instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie didn't know if that sounded better or worse; she understood that it was a different situation, but the thought of being watched again made her skin crawl and her stomach start to turn again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I think that’s enough Commissioner,” her father said, his voice firm, almost unfriendly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but heard the three men leaving, escorted to the door by her dad. Coran talked to her for a while, but she couldn't bring herself to try and explain the mess of thoughts swirling in her mind, and eventually he just arranged another visit in a couple of days, and asked her to call him if she needed before then, which she agreed to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt sat with her as she processed everything, or tried to, letting her curl up against him on the sofa until she  realised she was going to fall asleep again, and made her way back up to her room for some peace and quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baebae followed her, licking her face and resting her head on her shoulder when she lay down, and let the dog squirrel her way into her arms. Scratching her behind her ears, Katie let her mind wind down, process the conversations and try to settle them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few times her parents or brother poked their head around her door, and sometimes she was halfway to sleep, but a couple of times she just pretended; she didn't want to talk to them just yet. It was easy to blurt things out, but it wasn’t so easy to talk about those slips, and she wasn’t ready to talk about what had spiralled and swirled through her mind today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were some things she just didn't know how or want to talk about in front of her family yet.  Not even her dad, who had probably been exposed to the worst of what had happened to her, or Romelle, who had specific training and, like as much, a better understanding of what she had to live with now than anyone else did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably better she didn’t tell them. If she wasn’t completely ready to talk about her experiences, Katie knew her family wouldn’t be ready to hear about them. She did write in her notebook for Coran, and she looked at one of the emails she’d received from the university too, but once her mind had settled, it didn’t take long for her dog’s soothing snores to lull her into rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katie knew she would wake up a little better in a few days, and think about the information seriously, make a decision and talk with her family about it, but for now, it was too much to cope with, and she gladly took the detour sleep offered.</span>
</p><hr/><p>So, Katie know about the full effects a soulbond has on her case, and about Haggar. She couldn't avoid it forever, though it does mean some difficult conversations, but she's getting a little it closer.</p><p>Baebae is the MVP of this chapter. She get all the treats for being a good doggo. </p><p>Hope you enjoyed the update <span>❤︎✧★◦•</span></p>
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